In my last column I referred to myself as a woman of contradictions. I laughed at myself for briefly wishing to upgrade my post-baby body with perfectly plastic teenage-pert fake breasts, in the same day that I attended a womb yoga session. They would appear to be the thoughts and actions of two very different women. Wouldn’t they?
My bio hints at my love for red wine. Wine drinking, for me, is seasonal. Don’t misunderstand, there is never NOT a season to drink wine, but as you know, it’s white for spring, pink for summer, juicy red for autumn and mulled for winter. (Another very good reason why Autumn is my favourite month!) Champagne is like an evergreen, perfect all year around!! This is common knowledge, right? My wine drinking (moderate to some, heavy to a few (my parents!) and down-right feeble by comparison to others (naming no names of course)) also seems to contradict so much of what else I am. I am sporty, which means being ‘healthy’ and exercising REGULARLY. I eat well, meaning, organic, fresh, local, home-cooked, free range, fair trade. But I also can crave a Mars bar… Well I do! Shoot me. Consistent?
I find myself continually apologising for my commitment to the miserable and what is oft called the ‘gritty’ soap opera Eastenders (it’s the ONLY soap I watch, I might add) and balance that with evidence of my knowledge of current affairs. “I read newspapers”, I will say, “weekly, the ones that are big and sprawling and heavy. And I listen to the radio, daily, the news worthy politically correct type of programmes when I digest details regarding child protection and pension scheme deficits and petrol prices.” Yes, all of that ‘gritty’, real and miserable real life stuff. Consistent? Clearly, not I.
Is this what men complain about when they say they don’t understand women? Fickle, I do believe is a word my ex-husband used, FREQUENTLY. And indecisive, changeable, erratic, frivolous…… Thank goodness I no longer need to listen!
Halloween came and went in a flurry of pumpkins, sugar and increasing amounts of angst over outfits. Not from me, but from Petal and Pickle, who need to look ‘good’, even for an event where looking ‘bad’ should be the goal. They are 7 and 9!! It’s a delicate skill, putting on make-up when you are trying to look both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The ‘perfect’ look was achieved, finally, and spooky fun was had. As was all that sugar…
There is another battle starting here, over ear- piercing. Regarding this subject my two gorgeous and thus far, unblemished daughters are like dogs with bones: relentless. Although they are more often heard squabbling and competing, this is an area where they see advantage in joining together and working as a team… and pretty flipping effective they are too. But I have not given in just yet. Now, just to be clear, this is a matter of personal preference, and family tradition. My father made me wait until I was thirteen to have my ears pierced and so I have made this my family rule too. I have learnt to pick my battles over the years and so far I am sticking, even under such immense pressure. However, it could be a long four years….. I am hoping that I am able to show some consistency here at least!!