Decisions decisions

This morning it seemed like the sun was going to come out, I looked outside and tried to guestimate how cold it would be.

Tights or Bare Legs? The decisions you face in the morning… (like: Wash hair or 5 more min in bed. Heels or flats?)

I decided to go with the latter (on all three questions in fact). As I closed my front door behind me I was not unhappy with my choice: it wasn’t too cold. I was wearing a cardigan and a coat to balance out the short denim skirt. (Yes, gentlemen: every day is another wardrobe battle.) However as I was approaching the station, the area where I live being fairly corporate, I began to become more paranoid.

All of a sudden I realised that no one. NO ONE. was bare legged. I would even go as far as saying that I only saw 60 dernier out there, not even 40 or 20. 6-0. Black tights opaque tights some even in boots! Though personally I think that is the other extreme. Every one was pretty much suited and booted and YES I KNOW that is because of where I live; but gawd it does make you paranoid.

Being short, and normally proportioned, my legs are short, they have a couple funny marks on them through a tiny chemical defuzzing incident… (It is true, you have to test before you get any hair removal cream on any part of your body ladies; any allergic reaction and you will end up scarred. Fact.) and ok not being white I can not claim they’re pale but it’s not like their are gloriously golden tanned either. Every little thing started growing in my head, all of a sudden I remembered why I didn’t wear skirts until 21- no joke : when I was 11 my friend’s mum decided to utter the immortal words: “You don’t mind me saying this do you, but you do have chunky legs don’t you?”  Of course I didn’t mind her saying that… I just hid my legs for the next decade.

So here I was walking the streets of London with my chunky scarred short legs. I know I don’t have chunky legs – they aren’t thin, but surely they aren’t chunky?! – anyway not the point when it is all happening in your head: it is real. But at the same time I realised that I was still not cold and still quite happy with my clothing choice were it not for the funny looks I got.

Women are worse than men – I know because I do it. Though I usually do it thinking: “Gawd she must be cold.”  Which I wasn’t. Still I got the look from some women in the street and who knows what they might be thinking! (If men look I don’t care, not even about what they are thinking. Women dress for women. Another fact.)

Then I saw my reflection in a window: Ah. I might have spotted the wardrobe malfunction: since I am short my  trench-coat nearly covered my skirt so I basically looked like a female streaker with glasses, ready to strike.  A quick rejiggle of the coat and more of my actual clothes were to be seen, it was the best I could do.

Awkwardness or Just going with it. The decisions you face in the morning…

Half way through the day I decided again to go with the latter and everyone else with a problem can kiss my legs!

No Poor Man’s Sandra B.

Hereby I sincerely apologise to Reese Witherspoon my confessed girl-crush. No I haven’t found someone else, but I just have to dedicate this little entry to another woman.

I know. I am sorry. (Let’s be honest Reese, you haven’t been around lately now you are smooching with what’s his name Jim? I am sorry things didn’t work out between you and Jake. I think I understand the new, let’s stay away from the camera’s strategy…but what can I say: I miss you.)

Anyway, someone who stepped out today triumphantly was Sandra Bullock. She revealed in People magazine that she has adopted a child, something that was set in motion years before the other thing broke in the news. The other thing -for those living in a cave or with an actual life- being the alleged infidelities of her husband Jesse James.  Yes, when she had won an Oscar, adopted a child, the news broke that her husband had several affairs with other women.  Hello bombshell. Jesse called it poor judgement. I can think of another word or two.

Still A Winner

 

Sandra disappeared from the public eye for awhile until today. She’s back on the cover even pushing away the Most Beautiful People 2010 cover (which in time has become a little iconic), holding her son and announcing she has decided to get a divorce.

I know, this is not really something that we should celebrate as it is a sad occasion that will change a lot relationships and lives. Still I cannot help but feel a little happy, that she obviously felt very strongly about the situation and that she was strong enough to make the decision despite the new baby and the other children and the press etc.

Let’s indulge in the feminist side of me: it’s a good day for women.

Hoorah for strong women, hoorah for strong mothers who make hard decisions every day not just for themselves but also for their children.

(Are we listening to the universe Elin Woods?)

Poor judgement can be forgiven, disrespecting another soul who you promised to love for life…apparently not.

Freedom Writing

Once I disclosed to someone that I write a blog ( and may I add more in the passing sense than a big song and dance) only to have another girl smile sweetly at me and say: “I always thought that people who write blogs are a bit sad.”

Ok then…

The girl added: “After I have sat behind a computer all day, the last thing I want to do is sit behind the computer at home.”  See, I can appreciate the sentiment: who would sit down nearly every day to randomly write her thoughts to nobody in particular. The reason why I do, is really quite simple: I enjoy it and it keeps me sane from daily business. 

As somebody put it to me the other day: You are on a crossroad. And I am. Perhaps not in the context that she meant it but still…and to write about it, is thinking about it, trying to make sense of it. ‘It’ being life, well my life in particular. (Yes yes I understand I might have lost half of you right now! Sorry, it is ‘one of those’ tonight!)

One can chose to do this more privately in diaries, with the added bonus that you don’t have to censor yourself. That you are free to write what you want, when you feel like it. Today when I switched on the tv, a fairly new experience in this household, I came across the film: The Freedom Writers.

It kind of seemed a Sister Act 2 remake without the singing or perhaps Michelle Pfeiffer’s Dangerous Minds, I only stopped because the kids/teenagers/ young people or whatever the PC term is these days were reading The Diary of Anne Frank.  Anne Frank was a Dutch girl and being Dutch I took it for granted that we learned about her in school. So I am ashamed to say that until now – tonight I don’t think I really understood what an international symbol she and her diary have become.

Ofcourse I have read her book, I have seen the plays, I have seen the films about her life but I guess it was the junxtaposition of this relatively recent piece of, for lack of a better word for it, high-culture (Second World War literature ) within modern, god what a horrendeous term, low-culture (2007 Hollywood film starring Hilary Swank), the latter being based on a real story, that I realised how incredible far Anne’s words still reach. She wanted to be a writer and she became a writer, the tragic but hopeful 15 year old, whose uncensored thoughts resonate with so many.

The film also gave me something else, like my Saturday morning at the play centre; the sense that there really are different ways of living. Depending on who you are and what your interests are these are different for us all. I cannot imagine it but some people like making the numbers work or get a kick out of massive profits. There are people out there whose life is complete with that. Like there are people out there who teach, or manage accounts or fix cars or mend people’s bodies or help us at the supermarket till or play football or paint houses, or chose clothes for models, or who design the clothes even, or the ones who protect other people in warzones.

As long as they are happy with their lives  and don’t hurt others (ok, granted: the warzone one is dubious) who are we to judge them on what they do? Whether it is beneath our standard or too stuck up? Whether it is too pretentious or just too pathetic or in other words: too sad?

Back on my crosscroad, I might not yet know where to go but I do know life is too short to be unhappy. So if currently the only way to counterbalance my days are by writing this for you who reads it, so be it.

I write because it makes me happy, I write because it proves that at the very least: my thoughts are still free.

Blame It on the sunshine…

The morning started so well the sun was shining and the Play Centre was full of happy little faces. Some were looking at the newly hatched baby chicks and we had to supervise the petting (Don’t choke it darlin’!). Others were  playing outside and exploring new things like blossom falling from the trees with a gust of wind. So far, so poetic.

After we cleared up, we decided to go for a walk along the river as it was such a nice day.  We walked past London’s Oldest River side Pub in Wapping and decided to go in for one. Since this was all a very impromptu affair, we discovered we both didn’t have cash on us. Luckily we could pay by card but only from a certain sum… and this is when it happened. This is when the evil barman suggested: ” Why don’t you get a bottle?”

The sun was shining we sat out side had a chat, had some food, some more chat and somehow bottle number two appeared  at 3pm. When a long-lost friend texted he was in town, I decided to give him a call. He immediately started laughing when he heard my voice (nice, considering we haven’t spoken for over a year) and said he would call me back on Monday as I wouldn’t remember any arrangement we would make anyway! (Ha! Proved you wrong!)

So 4pm two bottles later, it was time to go home. We walked home in a very happy mood and passed a few very busy, lovely looking beergardens. What to do? It was time to call our friend Rachel,  conveniently christened God of Decision making  for the moment. The God of Decision Making said it was fine to sit down and enjoy the sun with a soft drink. This we did, sit down that it is: two Mojitos later it was really time to go home.

Via the supermarket, because we were hungry. Apparently staple diet was ready roast chicken, wedges, camembert and a guardian as in the newspaper. Ha! A-bomb bring it on, we could survive any war.

Maybe we sat through an episode of  Dorothy, maybe we ate the food and called the God of Decision Making one more time, maybe…

Did we have the best Saturday in a long  long time? Yes, Maybe, Definitely, Yes!

Ten Things My Mama* Taught Me

* and my dad ofcourse but it  just sounds better…

  1. Brush your teeth (she is a dentist)
  2. Learn to think for yourself
  3. Do what you think is right, no matter who might judge you for it
  4. Revising also burns calories
  5. Be nice to your sister
  6. Friendship is worth more than money – you’ll find out when you run out of either
  7. Don’t be afraid to leave a place in the world, you can always return
  8. Keep an eye on who makes the pictures when you go skinny-dipping (Farewell thought as she left me in seaside town in the UK!)
  9. Loved ones are only one phone-call away
  10. Don’t start a fight, but don’t ever be the victim: when someone hits you, make sure you hit him back harder

Temptation…

You know that moment that you have a choice on whether to ignore a situation or whether to act on it and see where it takes you?

The majority of the most exciting people I know will  chose to act on that moment. It might get them in unexpected predicaments but that is the fun of it all, the adventure! People used to tell me that things just happened to me: things never just happen to anyone. Opportunities or choices present themselves and you choose to say yes.

Yes is what sets the ball rolling, with No it stops. It gives you control over your life and don’t get me wrong, sometimes it is good to say No – like when you are offered tequila. Just say No. Then again, I only know that because I said Yes. What can I say: you live and learn.

A couple of months ago, I had a friend over who I hadn’t seen for awhile and after spending a day with a very grumpy version of myself she noted: Why don’t you try saying Yes And instead of Yes But? I could have strangled her (sorry Gem, if it makes any difference I obviously didn’t!) She was brimming with enthusiasm and thirst for adventure and I was going in circles in my head. Was she right? Of course she was bloody right. Only an Unapologetic Yes opens doors, Yes But doesn’t count; like anything before ..but… doesn’t count. (As in: I don’t want to be racist..but…[cue comment that would make Eugene T’B blush].)

Still even I acknowledge that through my most cautious phases I have always found it hard to resist certain temptations…well one to be more precise. In fact, my lovely flatmate accuses me of flirting with the barman before I have even entered the establishment. Not on purpose I promise… it just happens 😉

So when I received an unexpected e-mail this morning, it took me about 8 min before I knew I would respond…

To Be Continued ?

..and you know Albert had a point when…

…you managed to get in a sneaky 30 min cardio session  and think about the day when:

… you find yourself packing your fitness gear at 7.45am because you actually enjoyed yesterday’s fitness hour and before you leave the house you remember to check whether you have your mobile with you – unlike yesterday when you forgot and had to go back.

…you manage to find fresh parsley to garnish fish on fish shoot with which will look better, also managed to find a very helpful guy in bakery called Daniel.

… you help somebody out by sending their products in the same van; they have a lot on their plate too.

…someone comes around with home-made quiches and cakes: hoorah! and it’s not even 11am yet.

…you  call 4 different stores of well-known supermarket, the fourth store calls you back and has the product you were looking for! They even offer to keep it back for you. 

…you offer to pick up some other products whilst you are going and colleague manages to print out one picture of the two products he would like you to get. two is not much and one picture helps.

…you travel down for 45 min, you can read a mag. The fish guy doesn’t know anything about the product in the back, sells you the only sample left but calls you over later: he has found it.

…you get back you find a half- opened printer with paper everywhere, screen flashing Paper Jam: at least someone made an effort to try and fix it.

…you actually still manage to get upset about this, hey at least you still care!. After you manage to solve the paper jam, you send out funny yet pressing e-mail, people  including management comment that you write  well and that you are funny. Thanks guys!

…you get an e-mail from IT that you have tried to send such a large attachment that you crashed the server.  Oops, well at least you fixed the printer, that must cancel that one out, right?

…you phone the photo studio to check whether they got your e-mail and the receptionist recognises your name as The Fish Lady. When you mention this to the photographer she gets in such a laughing fit, you cannot help but join in.

… all your plans to shoot off to the gym are blocked because you are waiting for the pictures to come in – still you manage to write a blog entry and a friend calls to see whether you are ok.

…you have just seen the shots and you know you will end up re-shooting them unless the powers that be actually like them. Which is possible. It could be done. There is still hope.

Roll on tomorrow.