Busting Out

I can remember wanting to be 9 stone. I wanted to go in and out in all the right places and be so fine it was painful. I was also childless and single. Many years later I do go in and out but honestly there are more "outs" than "ins". Living in a household of multiple teenage girls it is inadvisable to own bathroom scales - they are evil things no doubt invented by mother-inlaws. So here's the problem: I want to wear a bikini. In public. Without being arrested for indecent exposure. So how can I do this? Well there's nothing like public humiliation to get you going right? So I'm a converted Lido hooked-up LCM gym bunny. I not only sweat in public but also in front of mirrors as viewed by other people... some people just like self inflicting pain right? So 60kg here we come!!!! Yip, pass the coffee it's going to be one hell of a trip...

DDay was 25 May 2011

He wanted to be single, I wanted to be younger so I guess one of us got what we wanted... After Big Brother insisting that his mummy dearest is 24 for the last 3ish years, I've decided it's time to turn 25 and not a moment too soon. Do you know what it feels like to make the same mistake every day for over 10 years? Every day I tried to convince myself that he wasn't the self-centered arsehole he really is; that he really did love me and not just in a verbal sense; that the way he treated me and the kids was my fault and exactly what I deserved; that he didn't bathe or shave or take care of his personal hygiene because I wasn't worth the effort. As my battle with my deteriorating health peaked towards DDay and the side effects of taking so many hard core drugs destoryed the little sanity I had left I discovered that every battle I had to fight, I had to fight alone. The day he left he hadn't washed for 9 days straight. When he came to discuss things 2 days later he was still wearing the same stale uniform (even though I'd packed clean work gear for him when he left) and smelt even worse. Perhaps he saw in me the mother he never had and by the same token I imagined him to be like the father I still miss every day? All I ever asked was he be the kind of parent he always wanted for himself. In hindsight I see that the parent he was happy to be should have been sterilized at birth. Ouch.
I promised myself that he would be my Last Mistake.

Just a quick "By the way..."

Anyone willing to proof read and criticise my novel? It's about a doormat who finally gets walked all over one too many times and completely spazzes out, but in a good way. She max's out the cheating ex's credit cards, refunds the honeymoon into a new account of her own and then stages a small but funny sexual revolution. Any takers?

Is it selfish to want it if it will make me a nicer person?

My heart is breaking. My dearly beloved coffee machine has brewed its last drop and is now totally puckered. The money it would cost to repair it just doesn't compare to the amount of extra life I would get out of the machine so the dilemma is... can I justify the cost of a new baby? Retailing at a cool $1000, a replacement machine would actually save an addict of my calibre some serious money. $20 got me 3 lattes, a chai, a hot chocolate, a fluffy and loose change (after a discount) at my local and barely touched the sides. After trying to live without a machine for the last two weeks I have spent over $200 trying to compensate. This is not a happy state of affairs especially when you take into consideration that my eft-pos card decoded on Christmas eve and I've had to make no end of excuses to get my hands on cash for coffee. The big question is... being the all sacrificing mummy that I am, can I rise above and willing spend $1000 (but heavily discounted down to $699 for being such a loyal store customer) on something purely for my self? The jury is still out...

I can see clearly now

In the past year it has shocked/amazed/dismayed/disgusted/grossed me out/amused me to experience the effect 1st hand of what a disturbing impact facebook has had on society, especially the one it has forced me to live in. Because of this I have had a radical cut, nip and tuck on my past posts and am now fronting a highly edited version of the original. This is not a bad thing. People, especially mothers (sic) have to be aware of how far and wide the Internet highway flows. Something said in jest can cost you your job if it gets placed in the wrong hands.
So here's to 2011. I truly believe that this could be my year. It's time for a career, a leaner body and a clearer outlook on life in general. 2010 did not rock. In many ways it sucked. Big time. So out with all the negativity and back online with more inspiration. Pass this around to all your best gals and I'm sure the vibe will rub off on you. Watch this space dude!

Define what it means to be a mother (then drink more coffee)

One of the initial requirements to guarantee you qualify as an uber mummy is children. I currently have 5. Yes, I know, usually the first question people ask is "don't you have TV?" We do have tv but I'm blaming Broadcasting New Zealand for not putting on enough stuff that's worth watching... of course they're really fantastic at putting all the best stuff on at exactly the same time but on 3 different channels. Having 5 children and the Man means I no longer have a life of my own - I'm simply an accessory of theirs. Years ago when the Sperm Donor was still on the scene I had 3 under 3 and him to deal with. When we got married his mother said "I hope I'm not the reason you break up" and even though having her cut all the lace out of my lingerie as it hung on the line drying sounds like a damn fine reason in retrospect, it was the fact that he was doing the nasty with his younger sister that really bought my freedom. Life, of course, was a hell of a lot easier after that. Next time I was blinded by hormones I was confronted by The Man calmly telling everyone how he'd had his lower ribs removed (like a infamous singer who will remain nameless) so he could... Yes, well, love is blind and stupid and to blame for many things. Enough said.

Regardless, that brings me to the present where I wake to find myself the mother of 3 teenage girls, a 7 year old son, The Man and a son named after a movie character simply because in said movie his mother was an angel and his father was the devil...
When I was growing up I could never imagine myself being a mother - I was far too flaky, could barely look after myself and was physically repulsive to all members of the opposite sex. My, how times change. As I look back I see friends that I grew up with and very few seemed like mummy/daddy material to my expert eye... I was a teenager and I had parents of my own so of course that qualified me as an expert right? Of course now I'm older I realise that I know less than I did then and now my children know it all - this, in essence is what it means to be a mother.