Hullaballoo

See the woman in this picture, could that be you? Nope? Me niether. I came in late to the pilates class today, which meant I had the side-on mirror seat and the last half inflated crappy ball to roll around with. As I pivoted back and forth on the mat, arching my back and doing some emergency damage limitation on the road accident that pretends to be my abdominal 'corset' (and zip up your corset, ladies.....) I wondered if it was all worth it. The teacher asked us to put up our hands if we were finding the class easy. No way! I fell into that trap before and she came and forcibly womanhandled me, bending me into the proper position which felt dangerously close to a hiatus hernia. As we pulled our legs over our heads (mine embarrassingly unsupple in any direction) she asked us to work our six packs. Just what is she on? Had she said 'family packs' or buy-one-get-one-free penguin biscuit packs, I might have understood.

Is this the price I pay in my thirties for my mis-spent twenties, grinding around on a mat 2 milimetres off a skanky wooden floor to better myself? Just what am I going to have to do in my forties, fifties and sixties to remain supple? I read an article about the new 'natural' hormones that women are now taking to combat the menopause. It was set against a provocative picture of a woman in six inch heels who claimed she had now got her life after a horrible menopause. Just what does she mean? One more thing to worry about? Am I right to dread the menopause already cos no doubt mine will be more super yucky and roller coastery than ANYONE else's. And no, I am not exaggerating, I NEVER exaggerate, EVER. Please could someone tell me how I am ever going to survive this....

The longer I work as a therapist, the greater the need I see for everyone to have a soundtrack. Take Bubble Gum, for example. She knows herself at a deep and meaningful level and now she has found the music to match, Venus by Bananarama (yes, Lane, the music you unconsciously LOVE lol).

The lyrics speak of the ultimate goals of therapy, to feel like a

"Goddess on the mountain top
Burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love"

As we walked home from seeing clients yesterday evening (no, she's not in the room with me while I see clients, that would be ridiculous) we worked on a dance routine for this theme. It goes like this:

squat, squat, wiggle, shakey hair, shakey hips and jump. You want to do it too, I can tell. Well, don't fight it. What's the worst that can happen?

I like it that Bubble Gum is niether narcissistic nor grandiose,

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes
Making every man a man
Black as the dark night she was
Got what no-one else had
Wa!"

This is fact, not just fantasy or conjecture.

If you were to have a theme song like Bubble Gum, what would it be? Go on, tell, tell, tell. Even better if you have a dance routine to match.

OS has taken to producing a weekly comic strip, full of death defying antics, torture, exotic locations and intrigue. It inspired me to dig out this post I wrote last year, whilst in the full throes of the Sindy and Action Man toy warfare:

No one ever escapes this prison alive.


Plans 'A' and 'B' may have failed, yet Candy Floss and Bubble Gum still retain their most beguiling beauty pageant smiles.


Happily, the girls have managed to wangle having a perfectly gorgeous magenta basket prison cell. It has built in hair straighteners and really rather attractive plants. There are certain luxuries which no girl should have to go without. Ever. Not even in a nasty boys prison.


The girls relax into prison life, offering the uneducated guards lessons in cheerleading and running seminars on dressing pleasingly and appropriately for any occasion.


Awkwardly at first, Action man realises the need to get to know his enemy.


With dedication any serious method actor would envy, he sets about educating himself on girlie matters.


He spends hour after hour consulting with General Fluff on matters of feminine whiles. No one questions how close they seem to have become.


His commanding officer orders a news blackout when compromising photos of action man relaxing on his day off are accidentally published in the prison newsletter.


Cunningly, the girls take advantage of the distraction of the scandal. They escape on a passing brightly coloured, well mannered and extremely friendly dragon.

YS, poor lamb, broke his wrist and arm on Thursday evening, when he fell down the stairs. He is bearing up well and keeps telling me not to cry about it, "cos it's so embarrassing, mummy." Well, I haven't cried, but I do feel very sad for him and am finding it hard to conceal from him. He is a perceptive wee thing.

OS has been told he needs new glasses because he has grown out of them. I didn't think that could happen, but I did tell the optician we were a family of big hat wearers. I guess that didn't quite come out right. Now he is 9, he is becoming sniffy about glasses selection. "I simply won't wear grey," he said veering towards a a swanky multi coloured designer pair that cost £170. I told him straight that he wasn't allowed to like frames over £49, and he looked at me disdainfully. "Mum, glasses are a very important thing to choose, it's important to get it right." Has he been watching Gok?

When the optician discovered that YS had broken his arm, he was optimstic and charming. "When is the stooky (a Scotterish term for a plaster cast) fairy coming/" he declared excitedly, looking around for reinforcement from his colleagues. Everyone looked aghast, we had only ever heard of the tooth fairy. He danced about and said that every time he broke a bone, the stooky fairy brought him a present. Awww, how sweet. At that moment, every woman in the shop melted. I love it when men show there innocence.

It was with some surprise that Bobo and I found ourselves at the gym at 7am this morning. Only a couple of months back, Friday mornings would have been spent cavorting, snoozing and twizzling around at home eating extravagant glazed pastries.

After a few lengths, I really got into the swimming. Bobo finished his swimming stint much quicker than me and sat at the side reading about the unconscious in the hope of other punters being impressed at his lofty reading matter. Of course, I teased him mercilessly, for that is my role.

Afterwords, we made up cool games to make the jacuzzi more fun. Bobo made the bubbles into clouds and mountains and relished watching his feet float past. After everyone left, I floated around in the foetal position, pretending to be an astronout on an important mission.

The trip out was finished off with the eating the biggest bacon rolls ever invented. They had at least 6 slices of bacon and spiled out with various sauces. Of course, I was almost late for work and cycled at such break neck speed that my face turned beetroot. I thought about apologising to my clients about my redness, then found an emergency tub of Nivea cream to stem the glow. I thought back to how badly it had gone when I apologised to a client for having a magenta neck after wearing my boa to walk to work. There are some things clients just don't want to know about their therapists.

Yesterday I got my hair cut and I tentatively told the hairdresser that Bobo and I were planning to get married some time in the next year or so. "OMG, You'll have to start thinking of what to do with your hair. Bring me some emergency pictures as soon as you can we can put together a style." She ran off and produced clip on hair extensions and waxed lyrical about dressing my hair up with real flowers. The wedding is still a long way away, but somehow her enthusiasm and the wedding magazines we read at the weekend, have lit a spark of excitement. Of course this means beginning to think about style and colour. I have come up with the following selection of dresses. What do you think?

This is a gorgeous bollywood wedding dress. I like it's simplicity and luxury. And of course, a perfect excuse for a curry reception.


The colours of this one appeal to me, deep royal blue mixed with dairy milk chocolate purple. What colours would Bobo wear with it though?


This is the ooooh la la of dresses, a gothic corset dress. This dress demands a ceremony in an underground vault.

We were bracing ourselves for something bad to happen last Thursday, and it didn't. By way of celebration and to mark nearly 2 years together, we treated ourselves to a night of gourmet romance in the highlands. We stayed at the Cross in Kingussie, described as a restaurant with rooms. The meal was sumptuous, and we ran out of superlatives to describe each of the 5 courses in the meal, from the Jerusalem artichoke soup, to the olive and pistachio cake to the seafood boudin.

Sometimes, just now and again, it's worth pushing the boat out.

Questions are being raised in hullabtowers regarding my eccentric film choices. We have a monthly film subscription and I make all the choices. It's not that I am a control freak, far from it, I am just keen to be eclectic. Often it's hit and miss, with recent successes including Little Miss Sunshine and Juno. Olive in Little Miss Sunshine (photo above) reminds me of myself as a wee girl. She is full of enthusiasm and life, but destined never to fit into the norm. I loved the way her rag tag family supported her in her beauty contest bid and the way that they made a mockery of the children's beauty pageants.

Bobo smiled when I said our new selection was in. Of course it's that well known film Amarcord, about Mussolini's Italy. What else. The selections so far haven't been too deadly, well apart from the film about the daily drudgery of an Argentian policeman. It had no plot to speak of and was pretty grim. Bobo said he liked it, but was he just being polite?

Step 1: Have a fruit and veg pink parrot smoothie
Step 2: Attend a tai chi class and do a sunlight meditation
Step 3: Stay calm and breeeeathe
Step 4: Use incense and oil burners to mask potential sweaty boy-ness
Step 5: Step away from the junk food
Step 6: Hide in kitchen with earplugs while the guests play noisy computer games
Step 7: Take the little darlings to Laserquest** (see below) and totally beat them at it.
Step 8: Send out for a takeaway/ get Bobo to rustle up something delish for tea




**"Laserquest is a high tech combination of tag and hide and seek. With the world’s most advanced laser tag equipment available, Laser Quest is played in a large, multi-level arena with specialty lighting, fog and heart pounding music. Players, whether individually or on teams, use their lasers to tag their opponents’ sensors, and score as many points as possible."

After session 2 of personal training, I am now nursing a super ouchy knee. I have done myself a mischief by following the trainer's instructions on doing a squat, but executing them in the wrong order. I am limping around feeling super sorry for myself and chewing ibuprofen. In my darker moments, I begin to wonder if it is really worth exercising at all.

I have been in a bit of a dwam the last couple of days. As I looked at Bobo and the boys over a steak baguette lunch, it dawned on me that they were similarly attired to yesterday. Upon further enquiry and delighted giggles, it transpired that all three had worn the same tshirts all day yesterday, all night and all day today. There was an air of delighted conspiring as they took it in turns to own up. Then YS took it one step further, "sometimes I keep all of my clothes on from one day to the next." Bobo replied, "well, that's just pooey," and they all began tittering again. Did I miss something?

I haven't blogged all week. The past few days have left me exhausted with mental and physical change. A personal training session which challenged what I thought I was capable of and a supervision sesssion where the supervisor cut to the quick and challenged me to define who I was and how I practised.

I am still reeling, with vivid dreams and lots of journal writing to do. Older son's 9th birthday added to the emotional intensity and left me wondering why children's birthdays are often so tiring.