Wednesday, February 28, 2007

this will make no sense unless you were around in Britain or Australia or another Commonwealth Nation in the 70s: my life is like a Benny Hill movie. how? in that I spend a lot of my time theatrically chasing, or being chased by, a young man. a very young man. preferably with lots of arm-waving, shrieking and faux-trapping. "oh no, don't chase me, no!".

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

my new favourite blog: blogger on the cast iron balcony.

with extra sqickiness. and links to blogs about the the creepy purity balls in the us. purity? what, is a woman a litre of milk? she can be spoiled and need to be tipped down the sink? yerk.

wish the supposedly new blogger did autolinks in Safari, then I could post more bloggy goodness. but instead, I'll mention that A looked at a photograph of a pudgy, short-haired young person on a magazine cover yesterday and said "what's her name" and I said "it's a he", based on the name Stevie - once I read the article I realised A was right. a victory for the preliterates.

oh, and the marriage is at an alltime low. it seems even when I ask him to do just one small part of a huge project, he still acts like it's an imposition. and he comes in on my projects and sets rules/makes it harder at the last minute. I'm so fucking glad I don't work for him. no wonder his staff are leaving.

would quite cheerfully have an affair at this point (have I mentioned the NO SEX thing, and the lack of effort on his part to reassure me that I'm still sexy, to maybe put a bit of romance into things?) - but who would want to have wild short-term nooky with a one-breasted chick? I did a quick scan of, and was saddened by the number of men specifying, you know, tits. usually big, but defintely tits. yesterday I woke up from a deep nap and was hit again by the realisation that my body has been mutilated. nah, it ain't getting easier.

Monday, February 05, 2007

running at least an hour behind, purely due to the stupid beachside restaurant last night that took nearly an hour to bring our meal, followed by a 1/2 hour gap between trams (yay taking public transport to save on greenhouse gases!), and what am I doing? blogging.

because I need to get the following out of my system: last night, after said delayed meal, s-i-l, who was already annoying me with "my" boundary issues - things like dh going off to play in the water with her and A. while I minded the stuff, me being of course the party pooper who thought the things should be minded on a busy tourist beach, things like her and dh deciding to move our spot while I was off in the toilets, so I came back to find her packing up my gear - last night, as we waited for said tram, and I was at the kerb with dh, A and sil safely, I thought, behind me so I was between him and the road, I heard her say something and realised: she was encouraging him to stare at the sun!. in fact, she was holding him up in her arms so he could get a better look at the sunset. I freaked, naturally, and interposed my body between him and the sun. she then informed me that "I (she) believe it's safe to look at the sun at sunset" and when my instincts pushed me forward to take him, she resisted, and said "it's OK, (my name)" in a patronising, don't-worry-about-it way. so I had to lurk between her and the sun until it was properly set.

I do not want, at this point, comments suggesting that she was right. I don't fucking care if it is mildly safer at sunset. for a period of several seconds, she was holding my child up and pointing his delicate little eyes - deliberately, encouragingly - at the source of rays that can painlessly, quietly, burn a permanet black spot on his retinas. he could have been blinded. and besides, with little kids, you don't say "it's Ok now but not later" to do really dangerous things. you say "no, not at all" until they are old enough to understand the distinction.

she apologised later but I have nothing to say. every time I think of her hoisting him up and saying "look at the sun", I feel physically ill. what if I hadn't stopped her, what if it wasn't OK? I don't think I can ever trust her with him, she's just too wilful and ditzy and incapable of really seeing other people's pov (yes I know I"m ignoring hers, but this is my child she's toying with).

on a nicer topic: on the tram down to the beach, a woman just touching middle age came over after watching us for 20 minutes and said "he's gorgeous," and went on to discuss how well behaved he was, how his little red lips looked like he was wearing lipstick, etc. I do like that sort of thing, vain mummy that I am. he was also really good as the minutes ticked by past his bedtime and we waited for our food, the tram, etc. he slept in and he's tired this morning but at childcare, hooray; I'm also tired and can't nap till after I do a small radio interview this afternoon, but I"m hoping for a supernap myself. ah, naps. life goes better with naps.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

since I was diagnosed, I've been participating in a university study titled "health and wellbeing after breast cancer". all I have to do is fill out a survey once a year. yesterday I filled out the third; it was full of questions about menopause, about how tired I was, how anxious, irritable and sleepless I was. yes, yes, yes, yes.

but I wanted to shout at the form: it's not menopause. it's my circumstances. my nonexistent (literally, non-) sex life, my stress levels, they are all explicable by reference to my husband, to complications with real estate deals, to being a single mum and working while dh was overseas. whether I was menstruating or not wouldn't make any difference.

I kind of worry that they will just note that this particular participant is suffering extreme consequences of the medically induced menopause without knowing why. and then there were endless questions about drying skin, weight gain and bone fractures which just depressed me.

I tried reading Germaine Greer's The Change the other day. I won't sit down and read it properly. it struck me overall as being a combination of denial and wise-woman style justifications. the stuff about how women are OK with being awake half the night because it helps them get their housework done was just laughable.

I refuse to accept that menopause means I have to get fat and unfit. I don't see why I should just settle into being middle aged, doing crossword puzzles and wearing frumpy clothes, as it seems some of my friends - not even 40 - are happy to do. that's unfair, of course, they have intellectual pursuits. but it's always intrigued me how intellectual young people lose faith, lose excitement, lose passion. there has to be something worth living for.

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