Saturday, December 27, 2008
The anticipated blow up never happened. It nearly did, surprisingly on Xmas eve when my harridan mother commiserated with Mr Vix for having such a wayward wife - the waywardness was accepting a place on a course in London in the new year ... What?!!?
In fact she has no idea of the true Vixenlike behaviour that I get up to! Such a respectable exterior and such fabulous, finger-licking fun in reality.
I felt drained and worn out when they finally all left. Its horrid going back to an adapted place in order to keep the peace.
In fact I felt so drained I vowed to do something totally different the following day.
Wait for it ... I went to the Boxing day sales.
I have roundly rubbished the sales for many a year, scorning the consumerism, sneering at the commercialisation however I was so desperate to do something non traditional (for me) that I raced in there. It was great! No crowds - some wonderful bargains and a brand new start for my 'new me'wardrobe.
I have the book - Look ten years younger - Nicky Hamilton-Jones. Its a must! I have been told off on every page for letting myself go, being slovenly and bemoaning not being the true sparkly me while working my way through 3 bags of chips!
Enough of the excuses!
This year I get slim, I revamp my image and I stop clinging on to a view I had of myself 25 years ago.
I started today with THE WARDROBE CULL!!!
It was scary - very scary but I did it. Two bin liners full of hardly worn clothes are off to the charity shop. I now know what I have, I am realistic and inspired to show off my curves. Best way of doing that is to lose the stodge around my waist and hips. Plus, its important to look fabulous now and not feel guilty every time I open my cupboards and see a size 12 from yesteryear.
A year ago my focus was on friends and social life. Last year it was career. This year its my body! I achieved the other two and as I don't do failure anymore I am looking forward succeeding with this one.
Its something I just have to do!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I realised as I went about my chores yesterday that Christmas was turning into the same old depressing ritual.
I love my life - its full of love, friends, excitement and achievement - but yesterday was crap and getting crapper.
There was I ironing for England with the dusting, cleaning and various housework tasks to do. Not at all Christmasy. I was feeling like a regular Bob Cratchett. How come its so horrid every year? How come I cant seem to capture the magic? Reading Boo's Blog helped in the realisation that I was doing something that really was not me.
As I lay in bed last night it occured to me. I am suprised the intensity of the illumination did not light up the entire street - rather like Rudolph.
I am doing my Mom and Dad's script.
For as long as I can remember they clean the house from top to bottom ready for Christmas. I am simply following an introjected "how to" from my crusty old parents who would not be allowed to have a good time if it fell in their laps and wriggled about a bit.
So I decided. No more fag butt tidy up script for me! No more chores! Embrace the dust, celebrate the beauty of the clutter and admire the natural mandala of the bits on the carpet. Sod them. I am having a holiday!
Suprise! Suprise! I am like a tinsel covered Christmas fairy today. Its been great. I have pampered myself all day - bath, face pack, painted nails - relaxed! Cant wait to pack the sacks tonight - going to watch old Patrick Stewart strutting his stuff as Scrooge over a plate of fish and chips (no cooking either)and I am about to crack open a 4 pack of snowballs!
Christmas is officially a Script Free zone!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Winter Solstice had now past and the Wheel has turned. For me the new year has already begun which means the damp squib of 31st of December does not have any significance.
I do my best to break up from work on the Solstice which means the New Year gets off to a cracking start with the traditional Christmas week and a nice fortnight before back to work.
One blot on the landscape for me this year.
I RECKLESSLY invited my family to share in the festive turkey feast on the 25th.
This means I will have to contend with my cross dressing Dad - still firmly in the closet because of my christian fundamentalist mother and my christian fundamentalist mother. My father looks to me to give him permissions to be himself, my mother seeks to reassure herself that I am not dabbling in any dark arts. Mr Vix has not forgiven my mother for her appalling behaviour towards me in my youth and goes round on the edge of an outburst of rage. This increases exponentially to the amount of alcohol consumed.
As you can already see - its potentially volatile.
Dad tends to snivel all the way through the day, mourning his lack of self expression while mother tends to become more and more dogmatic in her views as the day goes on. Tut, tut, tutting her way through the day. Everything is 'worldly' and debauched. All musicians/actors/creative types are on drugs. Psychotherapy and all my personal interests are evil. My friends are sinners. My children are given too much freedom ...blah blah blah.
Mr Vix gets steadily more outragious to shake my mother from her pious perch.
As if that is not bad enough - I have also gone for maximum masochism - also on the guest list are:-
Brother in Law (never speaks),
Sister (heading the same way as my mother),
Nephew (heading the same way as my father),
Niece - eats for England, resembles a plague of locusts and has a penchant for going through my cupboards - if she discovers all my pagan paraphernalia and decides to out me then you can imagine the volcanic eruption that will take place.
Why did I do it? Why oh why?
Next year - Barbados!
Friday, December 05, 2008
I am just about to get ready for the first party of the festive season. Wooo hooo!
I have a luscious long dress which is strapless - risky business with my boobs.
However I popped into my local specialist bra shop - not that local actually but the only place that seems to stock bras that fit me. (small back/big cup size).
It was a breeze. I was anticipating hours of torrid trying on, having to stare at my battered abdomen in horribly unflattering mirrors and generally regretting buying a strapless dress (you fool woman!)
But I went in - the lovely assistant had only one - I tried it on - it was fab - I paid and left.
I shall put a pic or two up on my blog (and facebook page) to show you my purchase (dress NOT bra) and will be dancing into the wee small hours.