15 Sep 2011
in Bedraggled Mum, Fascinating Things Tags: Exercise, Fat, Husband, Saffa, Turning 40
You ever have a fat day? The day where you turn and accidentally catch sight of your ass in the mirror and a part of you starts screaming like Munch and doesn’t shut up for at least 24 hours?
I get them. Funny how I get them more now that I actually am fat. I look back at skinny me and mentally slap her for stupidity. If I still had that old figure I’d be sitting here naked and wearing nothing but knickers on the school run. If I did that today, there would be heart attacks, medical emergencies and a restraining order. And that’s just from my husband…
I read, recently, that as you get older and into your 40s a woman’s body deposits fat on the arms and thighs as a part of some or other ageing process (translation: god has a sick sense of humour) but I had no idea this happened OVERNIGHT. Yes. If you are not 40 yet, please be warned that you will go to bed 39, looking ok, but wake up 40 with your upper arms and ass dragging on the floor behind you. Allow me to give you the name of a good surgeon…
Anyway, this morning, as I was wrestling my arms into some sleeves (kidding) I got an email from a dear, dear Saffa I love. This email has officially made me laugh so hard that I may need back surgery. Here it is, enjoy…
02 Aug 2011
in Slightly Insane Tags: Fascinating, iPhone 4, Turning 40
You think I’m being funny. I SWEAR the bugger is haunted.
I got my brand shiny new iPhone 4 along with a brand new shiny
term of slavery contract with Orange. I was rather pleased. My poor old HTC Hero had failed to inspire me with its clunky interface and personal issues, although he was one tough bastard that was stood on, kicked and dropped and still worked just fine.
The iPhone came with me to London. It got me around London to a series of awesome Christmas in July events that I plan to write about soon, and it works a dream. I like it. I am ashamed to admit this because I have been a die-hard Apple hater for decades. Oh well, I have also been a shallow git for decades…
Anyway, the first time I noticed something wasn’t quite right was the morning after. Feeling ashamed and used (and that’s just because I own an iPhone) I rolled over to check the time and the iPhone wasn’t there! I looked everywhere.
It was under the bed.
Then I placed it reverently back on the night stand and went back to sleep.
The iPhone wasn’t there. It was now between the night stand and the wall. ON THE OTHER SIDE.
Yes, I too had goosebumps. Don’t worry. It’s normal when reading a story of such obvious spine chilling terror.
Then I attached it to its power cable on my desk, went to get coffee and came back. It was GONE. This time it was under my diary. How? HOW?
And so it goes on.
The iPhone 4 that was sent to me by Orange is haunted.
SO, to avoid being eaten alive by an angry iPhone 4, I have purchased this:
Click on the image to get the full specs and to see the video. How AWESOME is this dude?
Have you been terrified into silence by your iPhone? Has a gadget got you by the goodies? Let me know! Perhaps I can save you, let’s tell the world the truth – THEY ARE ALIVE!
21 Jul 2011
in Slightly Insane Tags: Fascinating, Turning 40
Yeah…It has been AGES since my last
confession post. A lot has happened in the past few weeks (I turned 40 and hated it for a bit) and I’ve been struggling to keep up with it all. Lots of thoughts, lots of happenings and lots of notes in my diary. So, if you are still reading this blog and wondering what the hell happened, there is LOTS to come.
But first, a moment to pause and reflect. On what? Well, on how if you are not grown up by the time you hit 40 it is unlikely to happen, ever…
The weirdest statue ever...In Amsterdam.
20 Jun 2011
in Bedraggled Mum Tags: British Mummy Bloggers, Carnival, Turning 40
Ok guys. It’s like this. I have a carnival tomorrow and only a few applicants. I am alone. I am afraid. I am staring at lack of popularity with growing horror and thinking, “Shit, I am nearly 40 and NOBODY LOVES ME!”
You wouldn’t want to upset an elderly person like this, would you? You don’t want to see me staring forlornly at my false teeth floating in some water, sobbing real tears of pain? DO YOU? No.
Enter my carnival. The theme is grumpy or funny or both.
Email me on tamsinator[@]gmail[.]com
25 May 2011
in Bedraggled Mum Tags: Fascinating, Turning 40
There are many, many reasons why I LOVE being a child of the 80s. Sure, the hair was bad. Yes, I wore blue eye-shadow but there was this bright innocence and wonderful sense of excitement (or that just could have been me…) and, of course, the music.
This song captures the essence of my teenage years. Dedicated to me by my first love, played every hot summer on the radio, a song that even now makes me feel sun-kissed and relaxed, happy and free. It takes me back in time and makes me feel so young. It makes me laugh. And it makes me cry.
Thanks Stevie. You rock.
P.S. I can’t embed videos on my blog anymore. No idea why. HOWL
23 Apr 2011
in Slightly Insane Tags: Squidge, Turning 40
As I approach 40 with what can only be described as kicking, screaming, sulking and complaining (aka reverting to toddlerhood) I am also discovering that I am, um, quite odd.
Two days ago, as I was walking home with Squidge, I smelled something utterly awesome coming from the flat next door to ours. Their dinner smelled downright please can I have some, YUMMY. This was when I first realised that I may suffer from Eatealousy.
Obviously I am also DEEPLY scientific (snort) to have come up with so genius as name as this.
Eatealousy: To smell someone else’s food and crave it more than you do your own, to the point of possibly being arrested for stalking or harrassment. Caution: May result in divorce.
Eatealousy also presents itself in restaurants when you realise that you want to eat the food that your partner ordered more than you do your own. Sadly, as this condition has not yet been acknowledged by the medical community as the crippling ailment it truly is, your partner (or neighbour) may not take kindly to your stabbing your fork into their food along with lip smacking noises and drool.
14 Apr 2011
in Fascinating Things, Slightly Insane Tags: Tattoo, Turning 40
So, as you know, I invested in a midlife crisis tattoo. It’s not quite as flashy as an expensive car but I am absolutely and completely in love with it. She is beautiful. I did Phase 2 over two days – Monday and Tuesday – in two x two hour sessions and the first was a real eye opener!
You see, I have been told that the outline is, by far, the most painful part of the tattoo. That this colouring in part would be much easier to bear. I was very pleased with this news (and if I find the bastards who LIED to me…) as I found the outline just a little on the agonising side, especially towards the end (and, strangely enough, on my left shoulder).
I bounced into the tattoo parlour and said a cheery good afternoon to Sadistic Steve (our nickname for the Man With The Needle) and plonked meself down on the table. What followed was a two hour jaunt down a corridor of agony. Sadistic Steve wasn’t colouring in, he was shading. Shading means he takes a flat needle that looks like a miniaturised spatula and “flicks” the ink into my skin.
He also does the needling over the same skin three times – once for the dark shading, once for the next lighter shade of black, and then, finally, the lightest shade of black (the almost grey) – and thank the heavens above the final time is hardly noticeable in the floods of pain.
I hadn’t taken any painkillers. I was an idiot.
The next day I started taking paracetamol at regular intervals and popped two ibuprofen before I lay down. Much better. There were actually moments when I couldn’t feel a thing. Still, the end result is just gorgeous. She looks magnificent and we still have Phase 3 to go.
Originally I was going to colour her in with red, gold and a tickle of blue, but after Sadistic Steve saw the finished shading result we all agreed that actually we could risk ruining her with colour. Colour can change a tat from gorgeous to ghastly and you never know until it is done. And you can’t undo it.
After much pondering and pontificating I have decided to make her entirely black, white and shades of grey. Although I may still ask for the fins along her neck to be blue, they are very small and it may add something to the look. It has been ages since I last updated on this because my back was a raw mess for the first week after Phase 2 and then it got a bit, well, gross.
Now, however, she is free of yuk and looks gorgeous. I cannot WAIT until she is finished.
22 Mar 2011
in Slightly Insane Tags: Husband, Mommy, Turning 40
So yes. I had one. A midlife crisis. A full on mind blowing, heart bleeding ball of crap. I judged where I was in my life. My home. My weight. The singularity that has become my butt. It was pretty weird and intense.
I can see why people go slightly off the rails and wander off with hot Latino men on motorbikes. Although that seriously is not my cup of tea. The Husband drives me nuts but he is adorable.
I am vile at motorbikes, as my brother will tell you. When he tried to teach me I panicked, forgot where the brakes were and jumped off the bike. Sad, sad, sad.
So those options were out.
The next line of midlife crisising took me down the route of the pneumatic blonde. Yeah. Couple of issues there. Firstly I don’t have a secretary, much less a hot blonde one, and secondly I am not entirely sure that a faintly poor wordsmith is what those types go for. I’d need a BMW in my non-existent garage at the very least.
So it became a journey of thought. I read up about Woman vs. Midlife Crisis. I had meaningful baths. I ate cake. I ate even more cake (I now regret the cake). I shouted at things.
Then I decided to do one thing I have always wanted to do. I decided to get a dragon tattoo.
No. Not like the movie. I am older than her.
Since I was 12 I loved the Anne McCaffrey Pern series. I desperately wanted my own telepathic link with a dragon. I was gutted that they were not real. They transported me as I read, re-read and read them again and again.
I am re-reading them now. Again.
I realised that, at the tender age of 39-going-on-40 I could actually turn off my father’s voice in my head that said, “You will NOT get a tattoo!!” and actually just go and get a tattoo.
So I did. Last Saturday I went into the tattoo parlour and started the outline of my dragon.
Now it took planning. I didn’t just amble down the road and think, “Oooh needles!” and bounce gaily into the tattoo parlour, stripping clothes as I skipped.
Nope. I spent hours searching for the artists who did the cover art. Found the cover that had me mesmerised as a child. Printed it out, and the artist then adapted it for my back. The picture you see above is without a wing on the left, my tattoo has that wing.
It hurt. Ooooh that left shoulder hurt. No idea why it hurt more than the right, but it hurt.
I don’t think it makes me white trash, or weird (ok, it probably makes me weird) or any of the other stupid stereotypes attached to big tattoos. It makes me feel gorgeous and young and fabulous.
Below is the shot of my shoulder being tattooed by the artist. The needle looks very terrifying. Zoinks, as Scooby would say…
Next week I go in for the shading, and then the next week will be the colouring. I will share each stage. There will be no scabby, bleeding, shocking back shots. Ok? I have SOME self esteem. The shot below is a bit red but, hey, it isn’t bleeding or leaking. Look if you dare.
The red at the bottom is from sticky tape. Yeah, he wrapped me in clingfilm…
21 Feb 2011
in Fascinating Things, Slightly Insane Tags: Fascinating, Hairy, Turning 40
It was while I was in the shower. I was quietly shaving my legs when I realised that Big Foot is not a myth. Big Foot exists.
How do I know this?
Well, it is stunningly obvious when you think about it.
As I get older I get hairier. It’s as if the injustices of wrinkles, sags, creaks, groans and grey are not quite enough for nature. No. She threw another ingredient into the Old Age Pot – hair.
And as I stood there shaving my legs I realised that I had done this exact activity over 1000 times. Here’s the maths (not my strong point) – if I have been shaving my legs since I was 15 that means I have been shaving them for almost 25 years. With 52 weeks in a year, shaving once a week (usually more), that makes 52 x 25 = 1300.
I have shaved my legs an average of 1300 times. That’s excluding extras for dates or under the arms (yes, I shave there. Sorry, am not android).
It was enough for me to down tools, jump out the shower, and run down the street screaming.
And then it hit me…
BIG FOOT! Big Foot is actually a bunch of middle-aged women, probably just past the age of 40, who did exactly that. One day they were standing in the shower when they realised that if they removed another hair ever again, they would kill themselves.
So they got out the shower, flew to the Pacific Northwest region of North America, took off their clothes, put on comfy animal slippers, and buggered off to live in caves.
They probably form a healthy and happy community of women who hiss at the sight of razors, knit happily around the fire of an evening, and occasionally run in front of cameras to entertain themselves.
04 Feb 2011
in Slightly Insane Tags: Cake, Husband, Turning 40
It’s true. You did. And here is why…
You didn’t faint with amazement at the sight of my new haircut.
I am looking at you shop assistant with whom I have casual greeting acquaintance and with whom I exchange pleasantries. I look amazing. You should have said so. Next week I buy my bagel from someone else.
I did a whole 25 minutes on the step machine this morning, someone should have taken one look at me and gone, “I wish I was her.” Nobody did. That is why I am upset.
Elle, Marie Claire, Cosmo – not one editor strolled past me in my hurly burly urban life and asked me to be on the cover of their magazine because (and I quote), “You look fantastic for your age and no, it doesn’t matter that you don’t wear make-up.”
An agent hasn’t read my blog and offered me a book deal.
I discovered a new facial hair. One lonely bugger of a follicle sprouting quietly From A Mole. Like a bloody witch. Husband, yes, you, Husband, why didn’t you tell me? No sex for a month. You upset me with your failure to ensure that I don’t look like someone about hijack a broom.
Most of you are thinner than me. I understand that you don’t understand the art of eating cake but it isn’t that hard. Thin people let my cuddly self down. If we all ate cake then there would be no size zero to compare us to. It upsets me that none of you are noble enough to take responsibility for yourselves.
That is all.