I found myself buying all sorts of patterned clothes with the gift vouchers I received for my 41st birthday the other day. And I thought, Is a shell suit coming next?
“Stand back and look at your characters.” This advice, received in a writing course in the lead up to this birthday, rang in my head. So, what is my character now that I am well-entrenched in the fabulous forties? I asked my patterned self.
Looking down at my leopard print pants this morning, accompanied by sneakers and a different shade of leopard print top, my friend would call my character “Housos”.
She’s from Melbourne, and I don’t know the exact Sydney translation, but I’m guessing she’s not telling me I’m overcome with all kinds of Megan Gale style.
I think about the day to come… Housework, gym (yes that leopard print is in a shiny Lycra finish – no g-string leotard as yet), and hit the shops to find one of those headbands with a polyester printed big bow, tilted becomingly to the side. Perhaps, in leopard. My friend says leopard print is a colour on it’s own, so it would all match.
Today, despite looking it, I am not actually feeling so much Megan Gale. I am feeling like Life Be In It-Norm. My two-year-old Hurricane makes me tired. My make up is… actually, well, it’s bugger the makeup. I did comb my hair though. A ponytail – I once read a scathing report on the ponytail being the lazy mummy hair do. It was written from a non-mother I think. I like to think the swish swoosh of the ponytail is the perfect accompaniment to all my leopard.
But what of my inner character?
I was doing really well with learning how to meditate. But that seems to have been put back on the To Do list, as opposed to the Do list, so, although it is only 6am, my mind is bubbling over with a thousand crazy things (I’m thinking my outfit does not have much of a calming effect either). But I’m avoiding doing them. The TV is on before school and I know this will cause major M2 Motorway kind of delays in getting out the door, but it’s bringing peace to the house. Ahh, sweet peace.
I’m feeling really proud of my kids this morning. Yesterday was the athletics carnival and they shone. Albeit it in shotput, but we can work on the glamour of that. They amaze me with their ‘give it a go’ attitude. I’ll be inspired today by it, and will have a go at…. I’ll have to work out later what it is that I’ll give a go.
So I am at once feeling crazy mindedness and slothful. I’m not sure where this combination will get me. Hopefully at least up to school to drop the kids off. Perhaps then after that I will truly step into all my Lycra leopard glory and whizz around Warriewood Square to find my jaunty hair bow. Whilst there perhaps I will make a difference to people’s lives – questioning Kmart’s manufacturing ethics, helping the old lady cleaner with her mop and bucket, volunteer at the World Vision pop up shop. Then I will be completely organised with the grocery shopping, not forgetting one thing, and buying everything organic, gluten free, superfooded-up, and ethically packed. Little Hurricane will be quiet, sit nicely in the trolley without dropping the bacon bits from the Bakers Delight cheese and bacon roll all over the shopping centre, or throwing it like his brother’s shotput at the poor old cleaning lady. I will feel like I am truly a yummy mummy, gliding through the place, stylish to an L (for Leopard), with a perfect child in tow, due to my perfect mummying. I will buy more fashionable leopard print (Warriewood Square is full of it) that I can wear to my first book signing – it will be still trendy by this stage, because, as we said, leopard print is a colour. I’ll also probably be 102 and you can wear whatever you like at that age. At some point I will bust it out at the gym, and everyone will tell me how fabulous I look for 41 years old.
Sounds… tiring. Maybe I’ll just come home, slop on the lounge (trying not to slide off – slippery stuff that shiny Lycra) and demolish a coffee and Danish pastry.