Whatever you want to call them. In this instance, I shall call them tits. Mainly because I don't like the others (although many think 'tits' is vulgar) and because, although I'm fast approaching 27 (I know, I know... You all think I'm a baby - TRUST ME, I don't feel like one so let's just leave it there), 'tits' makes me laugh. So tits it is.
If you've had a baby (or seven) you'll know the effect that baby has on your jugs (I can't keep typing tits because I may end up giggling too loud and a) waking Lil up or b) wetting myself) and it ain't a pretty one at that.
Mine droop. Sag is such a harsh word and makes me gag a bit. They droop all sad because they're no longer right up high, all pert and young. Ol' droopy tits they call me (nobody calls me that except me in my head).
We could all have our tits enhanced and some of you may have already done so (lucky). But my husband won't hear of it (although if he saw them right now he'd probably write me a cheque quick sharp) and I don't have the cash to flash to Doctor Matti on the plastic mecca that is Harley St. So this is what I'm going to do...
One of my sisters is a boob guru. She's been trained up in boobs and how to measure them and which bra is good for what. She can tell you your size just by looking at you, fully clothed. Yup, that is how god damn good she is. She told me not that long after having Lil, something I already knew. My tits had started to sag. Thanks for that, sister. Bitch won't mince her words.
But what was I to do about them? She knew I couldn't afford new ones. 'Invest in a good bra and nobody will know any different, unless of course you show them'. Good advice. But not the best advice when the only person who was bothered about them was me. I didn't care that nobody really knew just how low they hung, I couldn't bare to look at them.
'Wear a bra to bed'.
Good lord, say whaaaaaat? Possibly the most uncomfortable suggestion that has ever left her mouth. Aside from sharing a bed with her and getting a black eye at the end of it. Apparently, gravity cannot pull those suckers down the whole time they're strapped in to a hammock.
It took me a while to think about this one. But tonight, I decided to give it a go. So here I am in bed with a wireless bra on. I thought about doing the 'I must increase my bust' exercise but then remembered I actually don't want to increase their size, just increase their position. A foot or two.
I shall let you know how I get on. I imagine it'll take a few years to notice any difference, unless of course I find a cheque in my purse to get some new ones. But we'll see...
*I ended up taking my bra off about an hour after getting in to bed, it was just too uncomfortable. Maybe i'll try again tonight.*
The Rough Patch.
We're going through one over here. Lil and I, Lil and Tim, Tim and I. The whole family.
We've hit a stage where Lil likes to do just that....hit. And kick. I thought I'd witnessed the most exquisite of tantrums a while back but I was wrong. She proved to me on Friday that the best was yet to come. Wow, that kid can throw a strop. My past tantrums are nothing in comparison.
I've been told that this is the norm for 18/19 month olds. No wonder so many Mothers turn to booze. I think I've consumed more this week than I have in one month during the party season. And we know the party season is upon us so I dread to think the food bills over the coming weeks and not because I want to party.
So what else is to come? Come on, fill me in. A possible divorce?
Christ knows Lil's recent spell of naughtiness is pushing my husband and I apart. There is a whole lot of resentment going on over here as well as strained, unkind words. This kid certainly knows how to push our buttons. And lack of date nights aren't helping. We don't appear to want to spend time alone with each other which is marvellous.
Do you have any tips on how to come through this rough patch? How to not let my child defeat me?
Your wise words are very, very welcome...
We've hit a stage where Lil likes to do just that....hit. And kick. I thought I'd witnessed the most exquisite of tantrums a while back but I was wrong. She proved to me on Friday that the best was yet to come. Wow, that kid can throw a strop. My past tantrums are nothing in comparison.
I've been told that this is the norm for 18/19 month olds. No wonder so many Mothers turn to booze. I think I've consumed more this week than I have in one month during the party season. And we know the party season is upon us so I dread to think the food bills over the coming weeks and not because I want to party.
So what else is to come? Come on, fill me in. A possible divorce?
Christ knows Lil's recent spell of naughtiness is pushing my husband and I apart. There is a whole lot of resentment going on over here as well as strained, unkind words. This kid certainly knows how to push our buttons. And lack of date nights aren't helping. We don't appear to want to spend time alone with each other which is marvellous.
Do you have any tips on how to come through this rough patch? How to not let my child defeat me?
Your wise words are very, very welcome...
If I were a...
I found this post on Lia's blog so I copied and pasted it on to here (with my 'If I were's' obviously!)
What would you be?
If I were a gemstone, I'd be raw citrine
If I were a pair of shoes, I'd be a pair of beaten up leather biker boots
If I were the weather, I'd be a sunny winter morning
If I were a facial expression, I'd be a frown
If I were a car, I'd be a vintage Jaguar XKE
If I were a time of day, I'd be 10pm
If I were a month, I'd be November
If I were a place, I'd be Lower East Side, Manhattan
If I were a liquid, I'd be a large glass of Malbec
If I were a taste, I'd be something sweet
If I were a sea animal, I'd be a manatee
If I were a food, I'd be a churros
If I were a colour, I'd be charcoal
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a flute
If I were a flower, I'd be a hyacinth
If I were a song, I'd be 'Ramblin' Woman' by Cat Power
If I were a planet, I'd be mars
If I were an object, I'd be a snow globe
If I were a fruit, I'd be a blueberry
If I were a sound, I'd be the rain
If I were a day of the week, I'd be a Tuesday.
What would you be?
If I were a gemstone, I'd be raw citrine
If I were a pair of shoes, I'd be a pair of beaten up leather biker boots
If I were the weather, I'd be a sunny winter morning
If I were a facial expression, I'd be a frown
If I were a car, I'd be a vintage Jaguar XKE
If I were a time of day, I'd be 10pm
If I were a month, I'd be November
If I were a place, I'd be Lower East Side, Manhattan
If I were a liquid, I'd be a large glass of Malbec
If I were a taste, I'd be something sweet
If I were a sea animal, I'd be a manatee
If I were a food, I'd be a churros
If I were a colour, I'd be charcoal
If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a flute
If I were a flower, I'd be a hyacinth
If I were a song, I'd be 'Ramblin' Woman' by Cat Power
If I were a planet, I'd be mars
If I were an object, I'd be a snow globe
If I were a fruit, I'd be a blueberry
If I were a sound, I'd be the rain
If I were a day of the week, I'd be a Tuesday.
Losing Myself.
I haven't had anything to say just lately, as you may have noticed. I fell in to a bit of a hole and stuff happened and I need to start finding a way out of it. The pressures of being a 'cool' Mum got to me, I guess, among other things. It's funny how you find it so hard to take your own advice on not giving a shit about what kind of Mum you feel pressured to be.
I often feel I'm not worthy of different labels such a 'cool' or 'inspirational'. After all, I don't work and juggle motherhood like so many Mums I know. I'm a Mum and that's about where it ends. I can't speak seven different languages and I don't have a degree (yet). I don't run a successful business selling clothes or work fourteen hour days as well as cook, clean and find time to hang out at the newest hip bar. I don't like being made to feel I'm not inspirational because I know I am. Maybe I only inspire Lil to be more creative but to me that's something big.
My Mum inspired me and still does, in so many different ways. My Nan inspires me too. She didn't work while she brought my Mum and Uncle up, but still she is a huge inspiration in my life. My Nan ran a tight ship and kept two kids and a husband fed and watered, she looked after me while my Mum went back to work. Two amazing, completely different women. Both inspirational. I'd still call them cool, too.
I guess my point is, as hard as it can be to not get sucked in to some crazy-arsed labelling system that mothers often create where if you don't work and look after your kids or you're not out partying every night, you're boring.
Lil can count to ten, knows half the letters of the alphabet and can string a sentence together and that's because of me. So really, I am inspirational. And cool (although you wouldn't think so now if you could see me...).
Don't pressure yourself to be somebody you're not or someone you think you should be. Every Mother is different and every Mother is an inspiration. To me, anyway.
I often feel I'm not worthy of different labels such a 'cool' or 'inspirational'. After all, I don't work and juggle motherhood like so many Mums I know. I'm a Mum and that's about where it ends. I can't speak seven different languages and I don't have a degree (yet). I don't run a successful business selling clothes or work fourteen hour days as well as cook, clean and find time to hang out at the newest hip bar. I don't like being made to feel I'm not inspirational because I know I am. Maybe I only inspire Lil to be more creative but to me that's something big.
My Mum inspired me and still does, in so many different ways. My Nan inspires me too. She didn't work while she brought my Mum and Uncle up, but still she is a huge inspiration in my life. My Nan ran a tight ship and kept two kids and a husband fed and watered, she looked after me while my Mum went back to work. Two amazing, completely different women. Both inspirational. I'd still call them cool, too.
I guess my point is, as hard as it can be to not get sucked in to some crazy-arsed labelling system that mothers often create where if you don't work and look after your kids or you're not out partying every night, you're boring.
Lil can count to ten, knows half the letters of the alphabet and can string a sentence together and that's because of me. So really, I am inspirational. And cool (although you wouldn't think so now if you could see me...).
Don't pressure yourself to be somebody you're not or someone you think you should be. Every Mother is different and every Mother is an inspiration. To me, anyway.
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