L and I went to a friend's wedding a few weekends ago.
I wore an antique cream coloured floaty affair, it was an inch or two above the knee and came down pretty low but held my C cups firmly, and tastefully I add, in place. I teamed it with a black linen jacket that had the same shade of cream piping and clipped a cream feathery fabric rose to the lapel. I looked...okay. Fit for a military wedding at any rate.
Despite my C cups not being as much on show as some buxom ladies I still felt a little self-conscious: I'm in my mid-thirties, sporting a short pixie crop hair cut I'm not sure about and am a good 10lbs heavier than I should be. Plus, L hardly spoke to me ALL evening and when he did he was terse and fault finding. I think you would have been hard pressed to know we were married! Not that that kind of thing upsets me, usually, and ordinarily it wouldn't but he's been distant lately.
That's not all though and ordinarily I wouldn't have been threatened by him spending the better part of 2 hours speaking to a 22 year old officer...ordinarily...but I'm in my mid-thirties, sporting a short pixie crop hair cut I'm not sure about and am a good 10lbs heavier than I should be. Even that alone wouldn't usually be enough to make my green eyed monster surface either, at least not enough for me to show it.
What made me freak out was how much L enjoyed the attention. He did look handsome in his uniform, he always does. That said, L has never really noticed when women are coming on to him, in fact I'd say he probably only notices maybe 4 times out of 10 and that's being generous. He's modest and shy and self-conscious like that.
Beside L KNOWING this woman was hitting on him plus the fact he's STILL talking about it and mentioning her 2 weeks later...that's what has made me want become territorial and want to hiss and spit at this woman like an alley cat before screeching my war cry and launching myself (undignified and uncouthed) at her. Obviously I didn't and haven't (haven't seen her or I might still be doing that squinty eyed thing which says 'don't walk down any dark hallways alone') but I did nastily comment to L 'I didn't see anything worth feeling threatened about'. Meaning her.
I know, I know. I should know better, I should be secure in myself, I should trust him....etc But ugh I don't and it's definitely more about me than him.
What's a woman to do?...I'm in my mid-thirties, sporting a short pixie crop hair cut im unsure of and am a good 10lbs heavier than I should be.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
Wednesday Wondering
It has been a VERY LONG time since I last posted one of these posts and I would have sooner....but I've hardly been able to string a coherent sentence together, let alone had something intelligent or witty to say, for months.
So, without further preamble here is a taster of my more lucid mental meanderings...
Why does it always seem to rain when I have bed sheets to dry?
Why do I insist on watching crime documentaries like the one about the Night Stalker when I'm alone and then wonder why I have nightmares?
Why do I find it impossible to follow a recipe and stick to it even when I'm making it for the first time?
How many times can I watch Baby Boom before I grow bored?
Why have the neighbourhood cats decided to make my garden their own personal litter tray?
Is there anything that beats the sensation clean fresh sheets on skin?
Was I really excited to take my new Swifer mop for a test drive?...(yes, but please don't tell anyone!)
How am I going to be able to resist 'testing' the peanut butter and banana loaf I made for L before he gets come tomorrow?
How can L NOT like winter? I mean who wouldn't like mulled wine, presents, snuggling on the sofa, hearty homemade soups, making snowmen, snow days, food induced comas, everything cinnamon, all spice, nutmeg and ginger??? Mmmmm
Why do women cry at weddings?
When are the MOD going to get their act together sufficient enough to sort out the paperwork (I.e. actually have some) so L and I can start the moving process? It's not like he starts the job on the 14th October and is going away in between then....oh that's right he is!
Has my exercise fairy gone on holiday because I have ZERO motivation to work up a sweat? Unless it's soaking in the bath. With bubbles. And my kindle.
How long am I going to sit on the fence about the pixie crop haircut I got over two months ago and have had trimmed since?
Why can I NOT STOP eating? My clothes are getting tight:(
So, without further preamble here is a taster of my more lucid mental meanderings...
Why does it always seem to rain when I have bed sheets to dry?
Why do I insist on watching crime documentaries like the one about the Night Stalker when I'm alone and then wonder why I have nightmares?
Why do I find it impossible to follow a recipe and stick to it even when I'm making it for the first time?
How many times can I watch Baby Boom before I grow bored?
Why have the neighbourhood cats decided to make my garden their own personal litter tray?
Is there anything that beats the sensation clean fresh sheets on skin?
Was I really excited to take my new Swifer mop for a test drive?...(yes, but please don't tell anyone!)
How am I going to be able to resist 'testing' the peanut butter and banana loaf I made for L before he gets come tomorrow?
How can L NOT like winter? I mean who wouldn't like mulled wine, presents, snuggling on the sofa, hearty homemade soups, making snowmen, snow days, food induced comas, everything cinnamon, all spice, nutmeg and ginger??? Mmmmm
Why do women cry at weddings?
When are the MOD going to get their act together sufficient enough to sort out the paperwork (I.e. actually have some) so L and I can start the moving process? It's not like he starts the job on the 14th October and is going away in between then....oh that's right he is!
Has my exercise fairy gone on holiday because I have ZERO motivation to work up a sweat? Unless it's soaking in the bath. With bubbles. And my kindle.
How long am I going to sit on the fence about the pixie crop haircut I got over two months ago and have had trimmed since?
Why can I NOT STOP eating? My clothes are getting tight:(
Wednesday, 21 August 2013
It's Not the Years Which Have Done You in...it's the Weekends!
There comes a moment (or 5) in a woman's life when she realises she's old. Well, maybe not old but she has this dawning realisation that the blush and exuberance of youth is a little behind her, unlike her behind which is perhaps not so little. Like mine.
So, here are 10 things that tell me I am on the road to my dotage
1. Liking men with beards and a hairy chest because they look like men. Not in the breathy blushing 'I only date older boys' teenage I like men with beards way. No, in the there's something sexy, reassuring, calming and enticing about a man with a beard and a hairy chest.
2. Needing caffeine to wake me up. Long gone are the days where I can open my eyes, be wide awake and compos mentis. No, that doesn't happen anymore until I'm either finished my first cup or have been awake for at least half an hour, whichever comes first. And I never seem to get enough sleep and no longer think 'I can sleep when I'm dead' or 'I just need to power on through the day'...nope. Sleep + caffeine = essential.
3. Not being able to lose weight by just skipping lunch. Now I have to skip a few lunches, and dinners for that matter, to lose weight.
4. Hangovers that last days. I used to go out drinking and I'm ashamed to say drink for 10 hours and the hangover would last a few hours to a day, maximum! Not so much these days. Once had hangover after only 4 beers and that lasted 2 days. 2 days?! Beyond lame.
5. Needing my own bed. I seem to have developed this inability to get a good night sleep unless I'm in my own bed. That's normal. For an old person. Within the first few minutes of being in it I can list all the ways that it's different - in a bad way - from my bed. Who compares beds other than old people?
6. Listening to girls talk about boys and the drama surrounding them. I don't miss the 'will he, won't he phone' nor the 'if he likes me why is he flirting with her' conversations. Okay, maybe I miss the butterflies in my stomach sensation but then again seeing L after he's been away does that to me.
7. Today's fashion. I do not have the body for it whether I like it and want to wear it or not. I have boobs, no waist as such (it's a thick one), hips and an ass that just isn't conducive to wearing today's fashion and not looking like mutton dressed as lamb. Mutton as lamb is definitely an old person thing!
8. Having a dozen things, worries, on my mind at any given second like blood pressure and my cortisol levels - old person concerns. I didn't even know what these were when I was younger and I'm pretty sure even if I had...I wouldn't have cared.
9. My idea of a good night out features a few - ahem 4 tops because as we've already established that's sufficient to give me a raging hangover - drinks in the kind of establishment where you can 'have a good conversation and be heard'. Failing that pizza, some kind of chocolate and a Disney cartoon. Not dancing the night away in some dark dingy club with thumping music, scantily clad girls, boys in crown jewels squeezing tight jeans, sickly sweet drinks and a carpet you stick to. See? Old!
10. I sound like mother.
Argh! That one in itself is more proof than all of the above that I am morphing into someone I would, not so long ago, have written off as old, out of touch, judgemental and boring. So not fair!
So, here are 10 things that tell me I am on the road to my dotage
1. Liking men with beards and a hairy chest because they look like men. Not in the breathy blushing 'I only date older boys' teenage I like men with beards way. No, in the there's something sexy, reassuring, calming and enticing about a man with a beard and a hairy chest.
2. Needing caffeine to wake me up. Long gone are the days where I can open my eyes, be wide awake and compos mentis. No, that doesn't happen anymore until I'm either finished my first cup or have been awake for at least half an hour, whichever comes first. And I never seem to get enough sleep and no longer think 'I can sleep when I'm dead' or 'I just need to power on through the day'...nope. Sleep + caffeine = essential.
3. Not being able to lose weight by just skipping lunch. Now I have to skip a few lunches, and dinners for that matter, to lose weight.
4. Hangovers that last days. I used to go out drinking and I'm ashamed to say drink for 10 hours and the hangover would last a few hours to a day, maximum! Not so much these days. Once had hangover after only 4 beers and that lasted 2 days. 2 days?! Beyond lame.
5. Needing my own bed. I seem to have developed this inability to get a good night sleep unless I'm in my own bed. That's normal. For an old person. Within the first few minutes of being in it I can list all the ways that it's different - in a bad way - from my bed. Who compares beds other than old people?
6. Listening to girls talk about boys and the drama surrounding them. I don't miss the 'will he, won't he phone' nor the 'if he likes me why is he flirting with her' conversations. Okay, maybe I miss the butterflies in my stomach sensation but then again seeing L after he's been away does that to me.
7. Today's fashion. I do not have the body for it whether I like it and want to wear it or not. I have boobs, no waist as such (it's a thick one), hips and an ass that just isn't conducive to wearing today's fashion and not looking like mutton dressed as lamb. Mutton as lamb is definitely an old person thing!
8. Having a dozen things, worries, on my mind at any given second like blood pressure and my cortisol levels - old person concerns. I didn't even know what these were when I was younger and I'm pretty sure even if I had...I wouldn't have cared.
9. My idea of a good night out features a few - ahem 4 tops because as we've already established that's sufficient to give me a raging hangover - drinks in the kind of establishment where you can 'have a good conversation and be heard'. Failing that pizza, some kind of chocolate and a Disney cartoon. Not dancing the night away in some dark dingy club with thumping music, scantily clad girls, boys in crown jewels squeezing tight jeans, sickly sweet drinks and a carpet you stick to. See? Old!
10. I sound like mother.
Argh! That one in itself is more proof than all of the above that I am morphing into someone I would, not so long ago, have written off as old, out of touch, judgemental and boring. So not fair!
Friday, 16 August 2013
Hurry Up....and Wait!
Anyone the world over who is married to military personnel will know exactly where I'm coming from when I say that. It's like the phonetic alphabet: universal.
We're 'waiting' to move.
We're 'waiting' to hear when this is to happen.
We're 'waiting' to be allocated a house.
We're 'waiting' to know where this will be.
We're 'waiting' to find out what the house is like - how many rooms, their sizes etc
We're 'waiting' for the above so I can apply for jobs
And that's just the immediate future. In the long term...
We're 'waiting' on finding out the changes to civil servants' pensions in order to decide whether, where and when to buy a house.
We're 'waiting' on a member of L's family becoming a US citizen so they can sponsor and support our VISA application.
We're 'waiting' on being in a position to start our application.
That is a great deal of waiting...and it's stressful and tiresome and frustrating.
I feel like I'm on the phone being kept on hold for the Life Company, listening to some tinny lift music that is rage inducing and zapping my will to live at one and the same time. I keep listening to the automated messages, pressing the indicated buttons and being held in baffling line for different departments that give you conflicting information and dates all the while judging you. It's all a bit reminiscent of Franz Kafka The Trial.
Mean while the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years of my life clock tick-tock away in the rhythmic sound of a beating heart.
We're 'waiting' to move.
We're 'waiting' to hear when this is to happen.
We're 'waiting' to be allocated a house.
We're 'waiting' to know where this will be.
We're 'waiting' to find out what the house is like - how many rooms, their sizes etc
We're 'waiting' for the above so I can apply for jobs
And that's just the immediate future. In the long term...
We're 'waiting' on finding out the changes to civil servants' pensions in order to decide whether, where and when to buy a house.
We're 'waiting' on a member of L's family becoming a US citizen so they can sponsor and support our VISA application.
We're 'waiting' on being in a position to start our application.
That is a great deal of waiting...and it's stressful and tiresome and frustrating.
I feel like I'm on the phone being kept on hold for the Life Company, listening to some tinny lift music that is rage inducing and zapping my will to live at one and the same time. I keep listening to the automated messages, pressing the indicated buttons and being held in baffling line for different departments that give you conflicting information and dates all the while judging you. It's all a bit reminiscent of Franz Kafka The Trial.
Mean while the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years of my life clock tick-tock away in the rhythmic sound of a beating heart.
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
We're Moving!
It's that time again when I - L will be too busy - pack up the house and we move. Finally! We were only meant to be in this location 2 years and 5 later...we're still here.
We're going to Shropshire....L got the job after all. It seems I did have reason to be confident after all too.
How do I feel about it all?...do I mind not having a say when we move or where we move?....sometimes. When I feel overwhelmed and lacking control (usually of my emotions). However, not at the moment, why fight a battle you can't win? It would be an exercise in futility. Give it a while longer and I'd lay bets on overwrought Tasha making an appearance, snapping tersely at people left right and centre like a dying rabid wolf. I know, I know - such a way with words.
We've not been given a move date or address of the house we've been allocated yet, which gives me plenty of time to clear out the house room by room and shed some clutter - charities are going to love me!
Before that though I just need to pass a Maths exam....ugh. I've failed (spectacularly I might add) every practice test I've taken. I've only got 2 more chances of taking it and one booked for this Friday, which I'm thinking I should reschedule for in another week. *sigh* on the note and because the dying rabid wolf Tasha is lurking Mr Hyde style in my peripheral vision I'm off to distract myself.
We're going to Shropshire....L got the job after all. It seems I did have reason to be confident after all too.
How do I feel about it all?...do I mind not having a say when we move or where we move?....sometimes. When I feel overwhelmed and lacking control (usually of my emotions). However, not at the moment, why fight a battle you can't win? It would be an exercise in futility. Give it a while longer and I'd lay bets on overwrought Tasha making an appearance, snapping tersely at people left right and centre like a dying rabid wolf. I know, I know - such a way with words.
We've not been given a move date or address of the house we've been allocated yet, which gives me plenty of time to clear out the house room by room and shed some clutter - charities are going to love me!
Before that though I just need to pass a Maths exam....ugh. I've failed (spectacularly I might add) every practice test I've taken. I've only got 2 more chances of taking it and one booked for this Friday, which I'm thinking I should reschedule for in another week. *sigh* on the note and because the dying rabid wolf Tasha is lurking Mr Hyde style in my peripheral vision I'm off to distract myself.
Friday, 5 July 2013
Letting Go
I promised myself that I was going to change from 'half a glass' girl to 'half full' girl. I say that because the glass is neither half empty nor half full, it's half a glass, which means it has equal potential to be either of those things.
Yet...I find myself in need of a friend to drink coffee and share the last few weeks with. I imagine myself sat at a kitchen table, the sun is streaming through the windows and patio doors and a friendly, sympathetic face pours me coffee.
In a nutshell they have been tough. My final placement was awful, absolutely awful. My mentor was....something else. Every bit of her feedback was negative; it was always about what I was getting wrong, what I wasn't doing and how much I needed to improve on just about everything. Her whole attitude was 'it's ALL you now' which would have been fine if I had felt I had someone to turn to for advice or clarification, yet she was very much absent: from the classroom and her role as a mentor. At one point her feedback was that I needed to work harder at my timekeeping in terms of getting the children ready for the transition to the next lesson. Fine, but it took her 3 weeks to give me the weekly timetable template! I asked her repeatedly for it and even tried to take the one off the door to make my own...she beat me to it and had put it in the bin. Nothing about her was kind, caring or nurturing, especially with the children. To all intent and purposes I don't believe she even likes children. Some how she had managed to crush every spontaneous and creative impulse in them. They weren't children so much as jaded drones, caught up in the factory production of attainment and progress. She tried to fail me.
I could spend hours pouring out all the things she said and did to undo my fragile confidence and self esteem...but I just don't have the wherewithal to.
On top of that and right in the middle of it I failed my Maths skills test (can't be a teacher without passing it), failed one aspect of a Master level module (a folder due to its contents) and L has an outstanding complaint against his boss. It was akin to being besieged on every side.
Now with time and distance I'm still no closer to understanding it or to closure. I'm not sure I ever will and so I think I should just let it go. Just let. It. Go.
Yet...I find myself in need of a friend to drink coffee and share the last few weeks with. I imagine myself sat at a kitchen table, the sun is streaming through the windows and patio doors and a friendly, sympathetic face pours me coffee.
In a nutshell they have been tough. My final placement was awful, absolutely awful. My mentor was....something else. Every bit of her feedback was negative; it was always about what I was getting wrong, what I wasn't doing and how much I needed to improve on just about everything. Her whole attitude was 'it's ALL you now' which would have been fine if I had felt I had someone to turn to for advice or clarification, yet she was very much absent: from the classroom and her role as a mentor. At one point her feedback was that I needed to work harder at my timekeeping in terms of getting the children ready for the transition to the next lesson. Fine, but it took her 3 weeks to give me the weekly timetable template! I asked her repeatedly for it and even tried to take the one off the door to make my own...she beat me to it and had put it in the bin. Nothing about her was kind, caring or nurturing, especially with the children. To all intent and purposes I don't believe she even likes children. Some how she had managed to crush every spontaneous and creative impulse in them. They weren't children so much as jaded drones, caught up in the factory production of attainment and progress. She tried to fail me.
I could spend hours pouring out all the things she said and did to undo my fragile confidence and self esteem...but I just don't have the wherewithal to.
On top of that and right in the middle of it I failed my Maths skills test (can't be a teacher without passing it), failed one aspect of a Master level module (a folder due to its contents) and L has an outstanding complaint against his boss. It was akin to being besieged on every side.
Now with time and distance I'm still no closer to understanding it or to closure. I'm not sure I ever will and so I think I should just let it go. Just let. It. Go.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Save It!
Here's a question for you....when we're in the grip of the pursuit for perfection, who are we pursuing it for? I know, it's been a while and I should first write a post to catch up on where I've been and what I've been doing etc. Well, I'm not. Don't have the patience for it and I'll come back, at some point, to that post and talk about it another time.
I'm just going to put this out there and say it's never for us. It will always be for someone else: to keep a person at our side, to make someone else proud, to win the approval and respect of another. It is never for 'us'.
As a person who is pretty well versed in hearing my flaws (of late)I ask and put it out there, why do we do it? What part of ourselves mindlessly hands over the power to our self esteem to another and doesn't have a problem with that? What part of ourselves will chide a friend for committing this crime....but go on to perpetrate the same sin?
Today I'm making a conscious effort to ignore the hell out of it. I don't need someone else to point out what I am doing wrong or not getting right or failing to do, I'm perfectly capable of doing that for myself thanks. In fact I'd even go so far as to say I'm far better than you'll ever be at pointing these things out to myself, so just save it.
I'm just going to put this out there and say it's never for us. It will always be for someone else: to keep a person at our side, to make someone else proud, to win the approval and respect of another. It is never for 'us'.
As a person who is pretty well versed in hearing my flaws (of late)I ask and put it out there, why do we do it? What part of ourselves mindlessly hands over the power to our self esteem to another and doesn't have a problem with that? What part of ourselves will chide a friend for committing this crime....but go on to perpetrate the same sin?
Today I'm making a conscious effort to ignore the hell out of it. I don't need someone else to point out what I am doing wrong or not getting right or failing to do, I'm perfectly capable of doing that for myself thanks. In fact I'd even go so far as to say I'm far better than you'll ever be at pointing these things out to myself, so just save it.
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