a storm in an a cup

I went bra shopping today. Who would of thought buying a bra when you're flat chested would be so bloody difficult?! Well I tell you it is! Flipping hard. There are choices galore for huge baps, with cups as big as hats, but ask for the small breasted selection and pfft! Nothing. Do all women have massive tits nowadays? Is everyone a D or an E? Even the A cups are designed for full, pert, round hooters! 

Maybe I should start designing bras for women who only have skin to hold up! The 'I breast fed my knockers away to nothing but skin and just need something to hide my sticky-outy nipples' section.

I spent over two hours trying on bras and eventually came away with two black training bras! One cotton and one lace. Designed for Tweens! How sad is that? 

 

I'm just sick of wearing uncomfortable padding. I feel like I'm taking off a pair of fake tits everytime I take off my bra. And they are so uncomfortable! I'm happy to be bra-less most of the time, but there are occasions when, as a 40-year-old mother of two, it's just not an appropriate look.

 

Yes I could of choosen one of those horrible nylon bras that look like a pair of tights (or pantyhose). Ugly as fk. Or just bought yet another pretty A cup that does nothing at all other than remind me that I have 'no filling' for the cups! But that's crap! Really, is it too much to ask for a reasonably priced, pretty, lacy, simple, comfortable, non-under wired bra that is for a flat chest? Ugh. Maybe I should just bite the bullet and get implants...

The cotton one



The lacy one

PND

I wish I had been warned. Why aren't women warned? Would it have made a difference? Could I have been more prepared? There was a vague mentioned of 'baby blues', but nothing that could prepare me for the absolute shock of becoming a mother. 

Or should the happily pregnant just enjoy the anticipation without more worry?

I'm talking about post natal depression. Being a new, first timer, alone with a tiny, needy, fragile baby. Your baby. Your responsibility. That terrible feeling of, 'Oh my God, what the fuck have I done?' Of being trapped and frustrated and confused and angry. Of wanting to just walk away. Of wanting my old life back. Of grieving for our old just-the-two-of-us relationship. The insanely strong feelings of love combined with confusion, frustration, tiredness and guilt.

I think had a mild case of it with my first. It lasted for about ten months, maybe longer. I can't really remember when the fog lifted. It just did. By the time Miss L was born I was myself again.

Reading Eleanor Limprecht's book,'What Was Left' has brought it all back to me. I haven't finished the story yet, but I'm really enjoying it. I can really relate to the main character and understand a lot of what she feels... I'd recommend the book to anyone who struggled a bit in those early, lonely days of motherhood.

Looking back at photos and videos of that time, still fill me with an uncomfortable sense of dread. Guilt that I didn't just relax and enjoy my sweet baby more. Pity for my sad, sorry, tired, zombie-like self. And a overwhelming relief that I got through it. 

As I have said before, I thank my dear Mr S for getting me through. It was just the two of us in a new country, in a new city, in a new apartment, with no family or support. At all. Never. No one to call on. No one to take the baby for an hour or two. Just us. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him. Coming home from a new job, to a wreck of a wife and a little needy baby. But we did it. Together we got through and I'm proud of the job we've done. I guess as the saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. 

What was Left by Eleanor Limprecht 

a fling on the same side?

One of my old school friends and I made a pact over dinner one night (when we were in our 20s) that if we weren't married by the time we hit 40 we'd fly to New York, stay in a gorgeous hotel, sip cocktails, go to cool clubs and be seduced by a woman, have a full on sexual lesbo adventure. At the time, I pictured a classy, elegant but dirty blond, (I was imagining a kind of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct - well - it was the 90s!). Someone slightly older who could take charge and show me the ropes... Now as I approach the dreaded middle age milestone, I'm not so sure who I would chose (if I was actually single and up for it that is) and I had my pick of famous people...

So it got me thinking. Kate, Christy, Helena, Elle, nah not a supermodel. Juliette Moore, my beloved Angie-Ms-Perfect, Cate Blanchett, hmmmm. It's a toughie. Then it hit me. Tilda!  Yes, Tilda bloody Swinton. A total surprise I know! A bit too dykie I hear you cry, but you know, but I think she'd be perfect. Pop her in a silk slip and a pair of heels and yes, I could go Tilda. She's kind of dominant and sexy in a strange intriguing way (she'd have to do all the work, obviously). Umm. Yes. Food for thought.



Is there someone down there Tilda?



What to do for the big 4. 0.

I'm at a bit of a loss really. About turning 40 next month. It doesn't really bother me to be honest, but I do find it a bit bizarre that I will soon be officially 'middle aged'. I'm not really sure if I've ever given being 40 much thought. It's a big milestone, one that has always felt so far away in the future that it's not been worth thinking about. When I was younger I could never 'see' beyond 30. I guess I thought that by 40 I'd be 'sorted'. Content, settled, boring (?)...

But there is an expectation, a pressure, that you should do something to mark the occasion, and that is where I'm stuck. 

I have set a budget for the Big Day, and it seems these are my choices...

Ideas for celebrating a 40th:

A skydive

A party at home 

A party at a venue

A weekend away (with friends or family or husband)

A trip somewhere new/exciting

A real pair of Christian Louboutin Pigalle stilettos (v tempted)

A diamond pendant/necklace

A pair of diamond earrings

A meal at a flashy restaurant (with husband)
A painting

Ummm.... I just can't decide. Actually, I can. I want to be selfish. I want something for me. I want the diamond necklace! I was going for the designer heels, but have changed my mind. I want to blow my budget on a keepsake that I can wear everyday, that will last forever, that I can pass on to mini me one day.

Having a party is just not my thing. I know that's anti-social, but it's just too much work and time and effort - and it cuts into my pressie money (!). Besides, Mr S and I often drink and reminisce to all our favourite retro tunes, so, do I need to subject my friends to that on a larger scale? Nah.

A lunch and glass of champers with friends, perhaps. Or informal drinks one night? Yes, that would be nice. Low key, that's me!

But a diamond is forever. A girls best friend. Yes. Choice made. Thanks for helping chaps! 



Shoes, parties, holidays, adventure... what would you choose? all of the above?!

a new outfit

I love these cotton trousers from Mix. I think I might just have to buy them, along with a new vest and possibly new shoes... it has been a while (since my last shoe purchase and Uggs don't count!). I'm really of liking this outfit... Comfy for round the house, geat with thongs for popping out for a coffee, and casual- cool with a nice pair of stilettos.  Yep, that'd do.

Mix printed drawstring trousers $25

Mix seam-free tank $8

Siren 'Jessica' heels $149

today I am wearing...

A bit of a mixed weather kind of day. A bit of everything. Sun, cloud, blue sky, grey sky, warm, cold. I feel a bit like that myself...

I have a coffee meeting this morning, an excuse (now I work from home) to slip my feet into a pair of heels (hoorah!) and pop on a work dress.

I'm wearing my plum lined black Tokito dress and my aubergine (egg plant doesn't sound quite the same does it?!) Whistles pea coat. I've had this coat for years. I must have been about 22 when I bought this coat. Blimey! It's lasted well. It's still like new. Although it does smell slightly musty after being packed away in a box of old London clothes for so long (even after being dry cleaned).

It's funny, when I was out shopping in London a few weeks ago, one of the sales girls came up to me to ask where I got my coat from, saying, "the retro over sized style is so 'in' now isn't it".  I told her "Absolutely, I just love vintage style", and chuckled to myself.

My heels are Zoe Wittner, but then if you read my blog, you'll know that. You've seen them on numerous occasions.



Whistles coat, Zoe Wittner heels, Tokito dress

children should be seen and not heard...

Why are other peoples kids so bloody annoying and unbearable?  Before you panic and think I'm talking about your kids - I'm not. I'm talking about strangers kids. 

Take the other day as an example. I'm at a theme park. My kids and their friends have run off to have fun, leaving me for an hour of quiet time (yes I found a nice sunny, quiet corner) to read and enjoy a coffee. When suddenly I hear a loud barking next to me. Bark, bark, bark, yap, yap, yap, bark ,bark, bark, growl, bark, and so it goes on in the same loud, monotone pitch...  WTF?! I look over to see a boy, aged anywhere between 8-12 standing about a foot from me, just barking to himself.  I glared at him, silently shouting, 'Go away annoying little shit, you're old enough to know better!', then his family and friends arrived and 'parked' at a nearby table for a 'rest' and he just carried on barking!  They totally ignored him. I don't understand?! Why don't people control their kids, think of others, act like normal people?! 

Another example. My two hours of hell on my recent flight from KL to Brisbane. We were about to take off. My sister and I have managed to bag ourselves two seats each (window and aisle). Excellent. When the pilot announces there is a problem with one of the doors, so could we please stay in our seats with our seat belts fastened. Great! Then, all the people from near the faulty door please move to fill empty seats up the back.  What? My empty seat. NO!  My sister got a nice looking man. Who did I get? Oh f**k.  Please don't sit next to me, please don't sit next to me!!!  They did.  An old crinkled granny (who couldn't speak any English) and her all wriggling, all kicking, all grabbing, hyper grandson, aged about two. AGGGHHHHH!  I am not joking when I say the next couple of hours were TORTURE.  F***********K!  I then had to endure being kicked constantly by two little hard hitting feet (clad in heavy boots), being jabbed in the ribs every 30 seconds by Granny, and being lent over to try and open and shut my window shade and poke at my personal seat back TV!!!  I tried smiling politely and gently moving the boys kicking legs from my thighs. In the end I gave up, turned totally purple (with rage), and flattened myself as close as possible to the plane 'wall' in an effort to minimise bruising, all the while boring holes of resentment into the back of my sisters head, as she peacefully read her damn book! I'm not joking when I say that it took every little bit of self control not to lose the plot. I was seeing the newspaper headlines, 'Stuck up cow hits small child as his old loving grandmother tried to protect him'... 

Eventually the Granny and the boy moved to two seats of their own.  My blood levels returned to normal and our flight finally took off.

today I am wearing...

I feel bored and moany today. It's damp and chilly and grey and miserable and blah. I really hope the weather won't be like this when I go to the UK (in under two weeks!). It'll make the trip so much more gloomy.

I'm off to see the doctors tomorrow to get sleeping pill advice. I never sleep on planes. Never. Ever. No matter how long the flight or how exhausted I am. My eyes resemble sore, dry, pickled eggs after a long flight. So this time, I'm wimping out. I want some drugs! Also there is a chance I may be sharing a room with my mum occasionally (on the trip) and believe me, she snores like a fog horn. I'm not kidding when I say it is a form of torture. As a child, at night, sometimes after a bad dream I would crawl into mum and dad's bed for some warm comfort, only to have to climb out and back in to my own cold bed because of the snoring. A snore chorus in stereo!

So drugs will be required. I'll get some doctorly recommendations about the hard stuff v natural stuff and decide what i need. 

Meantime, I'm (meant to be) working. Hopefully my coffee will kick in in a minute and I'll feel the Tuesdayitus fog clearing from my brain. I really could have just stayed in my cosy warm bed this morning.



Basque printed cowl neck dress with Tony Bianco snakeskin platform peeptoe heels

hands

Two things I hate about hands. 

I can't abide having dry hands (as in dry skin, not just dried after being wet, if you get my drift...).  I remember once, travelling to Canada in the middle of winter, and overnight my hands literally aged 50 years. I woke up with dry shrivelled hands that could have been attached to a 90 year old!  They hurt and looked hideous.. Thank goodness for moisturiser! I had to reapply hand cream several times a day and they finally returned to normal. So part of my two-minute, twice daily 'beauty' regime is to apply moisturiser to my hands. I really like slowly rubbing it in. I have to do it though, no one else. 

I also detest soggy hands. I cannot be touched by someone with soggy hands.  You know, when the skin goes all waterlogged and wrinkly. Ugh. Even my poor kids can't touch me with soggy hands. It's the feeling, I hate it, soggy skin on skin.  It gives me the shivers! Ugh! That's one reason why I prefer showers to baths.  If I'm in the bath I can only tolerate it for 10-15 minutes.  Once my hands go, that's it. Bath over. Out I pop and make a grab for the hand cream!

I think I have sensitive hands actually, they give me strong reactions to touch, very enjoyable sensations and very unpleasant. I like my hands. Is that weird? Who cares.

Love this Olive Tree organic body butter!



Fancy a smear? Now, now, get your mind out've the gutter!