POSTCARD PAM’S WEIRD WEEKEND
This is weird. I have been looking forward to it for so
long. Sitting on a train with nothing to do but write and paint my nails. Instead
I have anxiety.
The thing is that I had been feeling quite good about myself;
By and large; when all is said and done; relatively speaking.
I have lost some of
the weight I gained. I am back into some of the clothes that remind me of who I
am. People are fond of calling me ‘bohemian’. Apparently it suits me. I have
stopped fighting it for I recognise myself.
Several lifetimes ago
when I was in my New Romantic year, I would be stood-standing at a bus stop in
a frilly shirt or be walking through town in knickerbockers when the ‘yoof’ of
my youth would call out ‘Peace man’, giving the standard John Lennon Salute
with two inoffensive fingers.
I didn’t feel
insulted; more baffled, violated even. I’d
been hiding myself so carefully.
Maybe that’s what I have done in the past 24 hours, hidden
myself and it has caused me anxiety and a longing to turn the clock back 14
hours; to be the person that I was then; the one who liked herself, finally.
Instead I am sitting on a train looking as though I’d been
Tangoed. They promised me in the salon
this would not happen. But it has
happened and worse, there are two white panda circles where the crumpled bags
under my eyes are, so it has highlighted those to great effect. The thing is, I
felt good about my ageing face yesterday. Liked it even; appreciated that it
was the face of a nice woman in her 40’s, not an orange woman looking like some
terrible caricature of a lush. It has aged me 10 years.
In this train, I can hear an echo of blended voices demanding to know why, if I am so bloody
perfect, did I have it done at all? Well I’ll tell you. I am not perfect, I am
just accepting. I am learning to be accepting but sometimes I have setbacks,
especially when there’s a £15 offer on and it is something I have never tried
before (suggestions anticipated)
During a setback, it occurred to me that although my face (and
neck) looked tanned and happy from my
new job as postie - and the lower two
thirds of my arms similarly so - when I
am naked, I look as though I am still wearing a white T-shirt and leggings.
That, Dear Reader, is not an image to linger in the mind after 3 children and a
lot of cake.
(I’ve just had a cinnamon swirl for elevenses and it’s 8.50am)
Anyway, cutting a long story short – strapless frocks and
strappy tops are to be worn this weekend, if not pencil skirts with thigh high
splits and all of the above ending just below the knee.
My mother has a favourite refrain when she talks of my daughter’s
beauty:
“Thank goodness she doesn’t have your short tree trunk legs”
I try to love her, I
really do.
The aforementioned forest favourites are currently covered
in scrapes, grazes, bruises and cuts. The reasons for this are many and varied
when looked at in detail, but if I paint you a picture with a wallpapering
brush, it quickly reveals work-related incidents.
A fight with a bicycle pedal
A fight with a bicycle stand
A slip on wet floor tiles in an Italian restaurant that I
was delivering to (that one really hurt and I didn’t even get a free meal
though I have heard that their chicken dishes are to die for)
A fight with a bicycle and a hedge
A slip on a wet manhole cover
A fall down some wet tiled steps on Nutter’s Way! I mean….Why
would you? Floor tiles are for inside,
and even then only if they have some ridges to protect against aquaplaning.
An incident involving a bicycle chain and a trapped shoelace
(I don’t like to revisit that memory too often. It makes me tired.)
The resulting injuries brought me to the conclusion that an
all over tan, would at least make the bruises less obvious.
It has, because people can’t take their eyes off my Jaffa Self.
I am planning to stay
in the shower for a very long time when I arrive up North. I may not have time
to speak to my parents before I set off to my party 9 hours later because I
will be scrubbing my face. I may have to wear a backless frock and a balaclava.
I think I left it on too long. They advised me over and over
not to panic as the colour deepened as it would all wash off to an all over
glow in the shower and furthermore, they said
it may come off on the bed sheets. I
took this as an instruction to have a night’s sleep. So, I slept in the tan
rather than set my alarm for 2 in the morning when it was due to come off, and
I was up at 5.30 in any case.. To be fair, everywhere else is passable.
Certainly I enjoy a bit of colour (however uneven) on my legs. I have also
woken up with 2 (count ‘em…2!!) cold sores and there’s obviously the gum boil and
chronic infection in my tooth to contend with.
Oh yes! It’ll be a triumphant return home. . I am
such a catch for some lucky, lucky fellow of indeterminate years and hair
possession.
Actually, I generally go for slightly younger men, but this
shade of orange would just tip me right over into the category of stereotypical. Boycie's, 'Marleeeen!' I’d just
need a leopard print wrap dress, matching high heels , hot pink lippy and
earrings as big as budgies.
If I lift up my buttocks (stop retching you lot in your 20’s, it’ll happen to you too!) there are white lines cupping them from underneath like hammocks where the tan didn’t reach, and a little 6 inch line round my waist where I presume the spare tyre folds over. Just on one side! I wonder if I’ve had a stroke and not noticed.
If I lift up my buttocks (stop retching you lot in your 20’s, it’ll happen to you too!) there are white lines cupping them from underneath like hammocks where the tan didn’t reach, and a little 6 inch line round my waist where I presume the spare tyre folds over. Just on one side! I wonder if I’ve had a stroke and not noticed.
“Stay classy San Diego!” 
Fanfrikkin'tastic!
OMG! Legend! Altogether now
Gorgeous memories of a stiflingly long hot summer in 1995, pregnant with my first child and eating lots of Orange ice lollies. I still quite liked my ex then and he would drive me round the beautiful Rutland countryside in the early evening so I could catch a bit of breeze and we'd listen to Stanley Road.