mamahog 'n the lets

here's a nice little memory. it has nothing to do with naked rock stars, or murdered civilians. or even the yummilets going commando whilst cutting out 'boootiful, luvaly, princesses' from a bridal magazine they found in a taxi. (yuckety yuck YUCK!!)

its just a cute story from one of my many lovely trips to america before i bred. i remember once going to a place in joshua tree to a domed 100% wooden (including the 'nails') structure called the accustagasmatron or something along those lines.

for this little day trip, we were a group of 5 people. with a larger group of assorted ravers we had been camping in the park for a few days. after exploring, massaging each other, playing silly games, chatting up firemen and watching forest fire movies (bit of a downer). we decided to go outside for a little excursion and this sounded weird enough to be worth the drive.

the place looked amazing. but odd. we went inside and were given a small tour. it was incredible. there were wooden steps through a trapdoor up into the dome which worked like a kind of whispering gallery. a small central trapdoor, when closed over, had a hole through which air rushed bizarrely giving the whole place an incredible 'energy'. we spent about half an hour whispering to the walls and feeling invigorated by the wonderful sounds and feelings in that peculiar space.

however, we were hot. and mostly a bunch of 'cool' skeptics. and we'd been camping in the desert for 4 days. and outside in the yard there was an raised swimming pool. so most of us jumped straight in in our underfrillies, while our most space cadety friend went inside to play with the hippies.

about an hour later, after having splashed about in the freezing water sufficiently, we thought we should go find our friend and be on our way...
we heard 'OMMING' from inside the dome, so quietly and rather nervously we climbed the steps. the door was shut but a very nice, hairy legged woman jumped up and opened it and welcomed us inside where we were encouraged to join the circle of hairy hippies and our space cadet.

i'm ashamed to say, as it sounds so poncey, that there was actually, like i said before, a wonderful 'energy' in the room all around us and through a small hole in the central trapdoor, an amazing shaft of light and wind.

but that wasn't gonna help this old hog and another old friend who had been sat opposite me. we just COULD not stop giggling.

we tried. honestly we did.

i'm not sure how it started even. apart from the fact that 'omming' in a building built by a bloke who was apparently abducted by aliens, in a circle of fuzzy cross-legged sweetly smiling hippies is just not us. and is just, well, intrinsically funny. (not that there's anything at all wrong with any of those things. except perhaps alien abduction. which is clearly, well out of order!).

i just could not stop my body spazming. snot was escaping from my nose. i stopped looking at her but the hairy legs all in a row didn't help. i desperately turned to my (now ex) husband to be, who tried to give me a stern look (halfheartedly) which made me explode all over again. i was crying, tears pouring down my face with badly stifled laughter.

finally i looked in desperation to the space cadet who was happily 'OMMING' away.

she gave me the most serene look of love and pity that i've ever seen. at which i 'guffawed' out loud, jumped up and threw open the trapdoor and ran. closely followed by the other 3. we all had to get back in the freezing pool to stop ourselves convulsing. and waited another 30 minutes for our beloved cadet.

hippies- i mean real hippies, cross-legged in circles always have this effect on me.

terrible. i'm a body therapist. i work with energy. i do yoga.... i wanna live a self sufficient lifestyle with sustainable energy 'n stuff. (edit: before one of my friends does it... i also have hairy armpits.. well trimmed but unshaved or waxed none the less ;) for various reasons. i am a pseudo hippy. i'm a 'hip' )

but i also think leg wax might just be the best thing ever. dammit, i've been corrupted by vogue!

and iced donuts.
in morongo.

apt i think :)

'om' together now...

'OOMmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

gucci gucci gucci gucci, prrrraaadaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa'


oh balls! did i do it wrong again?

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Labels: questionable past lives

i go out on friday night and i come home on saturday morning..

if i wasn't such a tightfisted lass i'd upload the song by the specials for you. as it is, if you know it, you'll just have to hum i'm afraid.




it's dawn ing on me that i may be getting just a little too old for this rock 'n roll 'n hoglets lifestyle.

i'd forgotten what day it was until i got my weekly popbitch subscription in my inbox. (where else can i learn valuable stuff like "The collective noun for a group of otters is a romp.")

thank goodness the weekend's nearly here.
though being a massage therapist most of my bookings are at the weekend. and this week i'm booked up to feel a very big (meaning famous) band naked. here's a clue who... 'i just can't get enough time to enjoy the silence' :)

so it'll be a much more rock 'n rub kinda deal. and i'm gonna need me some early nights :)

have a lovely relaxing hnt and weekend if you can babycakes.

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Labels: hnt, istanbulundercover

...nah nah nah nah, nah nah naaah.

enuff looking at my pre-hoglet-much-missed tummy, and thinking wistfully about life's beach.

as we all know life's actually a bitch. or rather can be. especially when we've got so many retarded, war-game obsessed arsewipes running our world. (how does that happen people??? gaia help us coz god/allah/yhvh's obviously at the funny farm getting some much needed 'me time' and drug cocktails)

time for a rant. (i'm trying to avoid excess linkage and will illustrate my badly written words with some pretty yet pointless pics of the cyclets this weekend poncing about half dressed in a modern secular muslim country. because i can, and because we do FYI).

last month some of my regular virtual friends may remember i did a rather heavy post about the paedophile cases recently in blighty. and about my own experiences. interestingly someone found that and then quoted me in the leader to an article in
the times online newspaper.

its nice to be appreciated. and its great to know that all the public furor has had an effect. although i'm not keen on tabloid newspapers like the sun being one of the main reasons for the outcry, all the public awareness has however led to an upheaval of the justice system and sentencing. sadly it will not change too much, but it is a step forward.
until of course you remember this...

Dutch court lets paedophile party contest country's general election
why not? if you are having trouble convincing people its a good idea to change the legal age for children to get raped without retribution for the patheticweewilliedscumbagsofarseholedom what better way than to run for government?

hell it worked for blair and bush. noone knows how they got in. i mean we all know they are stupid, evil, lying runts but by becoming politicians they got past all common sense. and are now free to rape, pillage, murder and steal by proxy the world over.

and i don't know about you but i suddenly begin to formulate ominous plans that involves rounding em all up and sending all the paedophiles, politicians and terrorist leaders of each country in dispute to a sort of modern day roman/ecological survivor games (humanely done of course... ) no public violence, i'm more leaning towards 'opposites'. get em to do stuff they've never tried before and lets see who is more adaptable and open to rehabilitation. games of scrabble for instance... though that would probably make bush's ears bleed .
we could get them all to take part in protest song competitions. get them to macgyver up some kind of sustainable energy to keep em warm or cold depending on where we send em.. bush obviously would like to give massage, lets get the paedophiles to teach him and the rest some healing body therapy work, some pressure point shiatsu from books (no more internet access for them). bin laden and all his cave dwelling and king of the sexist castle cronies could take pedicure lessons, and work on home improvement and ladies bikini design. Ehud Olmert could do some colonic irrigation, and cleanse himself whilst learning bomb disposal. blair could learn to do something 'useful'... anything really, but we've got to find a way to make him stop licking arse and, ooh i dunno maybe he could go back to college and learn to live on £24 a week and learn to kick arse, he could get all masochistic with the paedophiles and they could have group counseling to get over all the humiliation. its not a great plan i know. especially as really i never want them to be let out and i would really love them to do life meaning life...eventually feeding them to lions and tigers and wolves and alligators that have been robbed of their habitats and now threaten human villages in india and africa.

its a badly thought out chain of thought, and a badly executed bit of spew.... i never said i could rule the bloody world. not like they did. or even be very funny. i'm too busy trying to earn a living, bring up kinder more compassionate kids and clean cornflour and cherry juice out of the carpet to put really serious mental energy into it. and reading stuff like this and getting rather emotional about the poor people that are really suffering.

like jos, a girl living in beirut right now

"Is this what the international community calls self defense? Is this the price we pay for aspiring to build our democratic institutions? Is this the message to send to the country of diversity, freedom and tolerance?
Only last year, the Lebanese filled the streets with hope and with red, green and white banners shouting out: Lebanon deserves life!
What kind of life is being offered to us now?
I will tell you what kind: a life of destruction, despair, displacement, dispossession, and death."
Seniora. lebanon's PM.

...but i do remember marching my arse off around london as a student in the late eighties/early nineties. i remember singing side by side with the now not so cool ken livingston such intellectual classics as 'maggie maggie maggie.. out out out!' i remember feeling hope, and doing everything in my power to spread that, and to force change. but it didn't help.
i think a lot of us feel that. 'so what's the point? what's the point in reading, watching, listening and talking? it won't change a bloody thing.'

BUT IT DOES!!

i don't really understand how or why even but i do know that it does. we've seen it in action recently, quite a few times (the sick abortion ban in south dakota, the christian man on trial in afghanistan, the keep the internet free campaign, the crazy british justice system.. our questioning and arguing has made the powers that presently be back down, for now) and though all this turmoil will go on, and i will remain scared for all our futures, i at least know that i do still have a voice. and as importantly maybe, a computer.

so along with fighting anti-abortionists, anti-orgasmists, anti-childhoodists, hypocritical-pro-lifers, bloodthirsty-bullies, anti-freeinternetmoneygrabbingarses, childsacrificingpro-darkages-terrorists, and narrowminded cliques the world over, by the tried and tested method of shouting at the telly and the online newspaper whilst simultaneously teaching the big earedlets highly unsuitable language, i shall also be putting my feelings down in this 'ere underpants, signing a bunch of petitions, writing as many emails as i have time for between playing with and caring for tantrumlets and getting to work on a few more up to date marching songs....

i hope i can count on you lot to do the same :) these aren't too bad

"If we cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq
If the markets hurt your Mama, bomb Iraq
If the terrorists are Saudi
And the bank takes back your Audi
And the TV shows are bawdy, Bomb Iraq"

and "Who let the bombs out - Bush, Blair, olmert"

an old friend just sent me this which works i believe,
(to the tune of mercedes benz)
"Oh George, won't you buy me a brand new Humvee
Not Army issue, I wanna roll like Jay-Z
I can't wait to drive it, gas is up to $3.63
Oh George, won't you buy me a brand new Humvee

Oh George, won't you buy me some free Medicare
Canada's got it, why can't they learn to share?
Just point to who I need to blow, just PLEASE not Tony Blair
Oh George, won't you buy me some free Medicare

Oh George, won't you buy me a new mom or dad
I lost mine last year when they were stationed in Balad
Though you can never replace them, they were the best to be had
Oh George, won't you buy me a new mom or dad

Oh George, won't you buy me a brand new Humvee
Not Army issue, I wanna roll like Jay-Z
I can't wait to drive it, gas is up to $3.63
Oh George, won't you buy me a brand new Humvee"

stuck at home multi tasking as i am today this is all i could come up with at the moment (shamefully)

"i hate you
you hate me
we're a disfunctional family,
with some more dead civilians,
and some bombs from us to them,
won't you sacrifice a few more men?"

nah fuck barney...

i definitely need some help here people. i'm finding it hard to make them funny... and is there a way to make banning funding for stem cell research which could save the lives of the living, in order that the discarded embryos can be incinerated instead catchy and amusing?? we could mix it up a bit with something along the lines of menstruation is murder perhaps?

anyway, if i haven't annoyed you too much maybe you could give it a go peeps... we need some fresh blood.. they can't get any worse than mine!

and then lets try to sing all together a bit louder!



you can help change this more immediately if you are a british citizen by emailing the uk goverment with the save the children, and tell them to get their heads out of their arses.
and anyone form anywhere can sign this petition which will be sent to all US, Canada and EU representatives and many media outlets.
these really do just take a minute, and could help people who desparately need it. now.

and anyone from anywhere could also try supporting the red cross working right now in lebanon.

thanks, lets have a better week darlings.

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Labels: istanbulundercover, questionable past lives, rantlets, the wonderlets

...... (when it's a little half-nekkid)

sometimes... whilst dawdling along the shore, i pick up pebbles, rocks, shells and sea glass. sometimes driftwood or even polystyrene and string, for boats i will send off across the waves, or watch crash and be engulfed too soon. once a maggot infested crab which induced screams and a late cold swim to wash and scrub away the thought, and stench. but mostly stones. soft, warm and worn. and i clutch them to me. to my solar plexus, feeling their solidity and comfort.

hands and fingers full, crouching in towards them. until i am satisfied.
until i have enough. enough to know i can discard the ones that no longer fit. the ones that don't mould my grasp to fit them perfectly. or feel too heavy, or too light to bare.

only then can i stand tall once more. the evening overcoming the day. and play carelessly with the little'ns. juggling them loosely in one hand whilst holding on with the other tightly to the one substantial constant i've found. the one that draws my skin to it. my palm wrapped around its comforting form. the one that fits.
then my body already invigorated by its strength is replete. and i can stand tall feeling the dusk draw me away. for one last swim, or a warm steamy shower. as the water i displace splashes down on my bounty, changing them only momentarily into brighter versions of themselves.



(EDIT: these are old pictures, from the year before my pregnancy. i am a little wider all round and my tummy is, lets say. 'more inviting' nowadays ;) i should have mentioned that before i guess... i posted rather last minute!
see the little half-nekkid-thursday link in my sidebar if you need an explanation for my exposure)
and have a lovely day darlings :)

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Labels: hnt, istanbulundercover, questionable past lives

the lets are back. yippeeee!! they apparently "watch-ed da telly, went to sleep and had some food." so the week by the beach was a hit!
i'm so happy to have them back, though i do miss seeing the floor, and after my sloth this week the cogs and levers in my brain are taking their time to whirr into the kind of action that quickfirelets demand. for instance, i was far from ready to give the 4yearoldlets the facts of life.

last night i started my period. i was in the bathroom while they brushed their teeth before bed. when i realized i was bleeding i asked yashi to pass me the tampons. this is the bizarre conversation that followed...

Yashi: why do you gots that blood?

Me (smiling lovingly): when you grow up and get big like i am now. as a grown up. this happens sometimes when you haven't got a baby in your tummy. it doesn't hurt.

Yashi: ...an why don'ts you have a baby in your tummy now ?

Me: because i'd need a really nice man to help me make a baby...and anyway, i don't really want a baby now.. i've got you two! that's enough for now isn't it?

Yashi: one day, when we meet a REALLY really, very very very very very VERY nice man, will he puts it in your mouth an make it go down into your tummy so it can grow?

Me: (stifling a guffaw!) no baby. (composing myself and putting on my most loving and informative head) if i really really love a very very very very VERY nice man, he will put his willy down there and he will give me some seeds and they will find an egg inside me and that will make a baby. (give me a break! i was put on the spot... i'll be better prepared next time :))

Loveday and Yashi in unison: where? show me!
so i show them. Subtly :#) and continue...

Me: would you like us to have a baby one day?

Yashi: yeah!! a girl baby.

Me: but i've got you two lovely girls already! shouldn't we have a boy?

Yashi and Loveday in unison: No.
(they currently want everything to be girls)

Me: (chuckling) oh well, we can't choose anyway. but i think a baby boy would be fun. and i'm happy with just my two little angels already right now.
(i cuddle them and kiss them both on the forehead whilst leading them to bed for their story)

Yashi: i wants us to find a very very very VERY nice man an have a baby one day. an we could call him....

....oh shit i've forgotten what she said dammit!!
Peter Parker? Batman? they are the favourite men in this house at the mo. (with the superlets anyway... i'm rather partial to slightly more down to earth men myself. spandex suits just don't do it for me i'm afraid)

hang on i'll ask them again....

Yashi: 'Flowery!'
Loveday: how about 'Butterfly'?

poor bugger.
maybe its a good job i've yet to actually meet a really really, very very very very VERY nice man after all.

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Labels: the wonderlets

oh dear...

do you ever have those weeks where for the first time in years, you get a break from routine. some well deserved time to yourself, in which you can see to all those odd jobs you've been putting off for ages?

you know the kinda thing... the pile of paperwork and bills that's beginning to resemble a Dr Who'esque recyclable monster, over 2 feet feet tall (if it would only sit up straight instead of slouching and lounging itself across me desk). throwing out all the homeless bits of toys... millions of pieces of plastic that appear to have no relevance other than to fill up boxes all over the shop, along with half finished or completed art projects which need editing.

i'm having one of those weeks. the summerlets baba announced last wednesday that he was whisking them off for a week down south. (with his lovely girlfriend and my helper sarah) so since thursday morning i've been on my todd. and apart from tuesdays and thursdays when i've started doing a little playgroup with some turkish kids and the odd massage for cash, i've been FREE. freeeeeeeeeee i say.

i felt horrible the first 2 days. i really missed the fabulets and their noisy but huggy presence. but then i began to actually enjoy the silence. the cleanliness. the tidyness, the lack of bits of cold spagetti stuck to my feet every time i entered the living room.

all my friends were (typically) away or otherwise engaged all weekend, so i had nothing to do but, 'organise', go to the gym and lie with a book by the pool, read the news and blog.

and what have i acheived so far? well, the paper monster is lying with its feet up and drinking tea, the boxes of art 'n plastic have been kicked gruffly to the sides of the room, i've lain by the pool once, i've posted only one underpant entry..... and i have no idea apart from france losing so sadly, what is going on in the world. but i have baked. i BAKED. did you hear me? i said i BAKED!!!

i never bake. or well, not if i can help it. i have been known to make the odd biccy or scone wiv the bakerlets. but its not ever something i do by choice.

yet for the world cup finally i actually volunteered to make quiche! look i can prove it!

so there! i must have been inspired by the frenchies. (as you know.. i love me some thierry)

so on sunday i did my best desperate housewives impersonation and took baked goods to a final match party. where it went down rather well. though we still lost. boooooohoooooooooo

but he did wink at me to say thanks just before the game.. did you see that? yummy. its good to be appreciated.

anyway, then i was alone again at home. the house was still clean and tidy. no cold pasta on the floor. and i was deflated and depressed once more. (poor zidane sob...)

so did i decide to get all papermonster slayery? hell no. i trawled youtube for images of thierry in better days and baked again. steak and beer pie. which went down very well with my friend pel. i'm still in no danger of becoming a bonafide 'domestic goddess/mommy blogger' i spell it with U for a start. i'm just not consistently brilliant or wholesome enough for that.

i'm a bloomin waster! take my needilets away and i get narcolepsy. i haven't even been drinking beer at 4pm! let alone raving all night long as i used to do. in fact the only dancing i've done all week was when i encountered an evil writhing worm under the paddling pool on the balcony. sscbbbrrtjjibblies. ( "Saraaaaaahhhhhhhh!!" )

i've officially become a hot human version of fatboy our cat.

and now the weeks wasted. and i'ma have to take on the papermonster and the plastic toy remanents with spag'bol between my tootsies, whilst being assualted by inventorlets who will know of a brilliant use for the hindquarters of the macdonalds happy meal otter, and the left leg of a mutilated bratz doll.

the very thought of which makes me needs to go watch some more thierry...
le yummy... le sigh... le swoon... le head hits le table. (clunk!)

and then get my lazy arse down to the pool.

.......and do some of this highly admirable working on my tan type stuff.

bloody hell! i just took a break from this whining and tried to give an old client a massage and the pathetic peice of pond scum started writhing and being highly inappropriate so i had to stop and tell the arsewipe to leave. eeeuuuch and damnation.

i need bouncers!

that'll teach me to try to anything productive. i'm off to open a well deserved beer and find more frog piccies to try to take my mind of mr sadarseineedagetalifeandstoptyryingtoshagtables. bleeeuuuuuch!

happy hnt dearies.
(...and if you need a reason for looking at my arse then waddle on over to the hnt link in my sidebar)

and before you early birds start moaning, i posted early coz i'm bored dammit. and i hope to be doing something worthwhile later and tomorow am so i won't be able to do it then so there!

and toodlepip :)

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Labels: hnt, istanbulundercover

Me: i have a very special relationship with my vibratores.
01:42 minus the e
You: heh
I thought they were suddenly castillian dildoes
mis vibratores
01:43 Me: you wanna hear a funny vibrator story?
You: Always down for stories of both the funny and vibrator variety
01:45 Me: ok
after i had the lets, i had separated from the lets baba but he was still living in the house.
he finally moved to another room
and i finally started to feel horny again.
01:46 i'd unpacked all the bags when i moved into the new house, and i remembered putting all my toys in a drawer in the girls room. (in an unused wardrobe.. seemed the safest place)
01:48 so i went looking for them. i found the anal beads, i found the smallish two header, the lubricant and the dildo modeled on an ex's penis which sticks to smooth surfaces and warms when you hold it..
but my favourite the clear pink shiny flecked vibrator which is what i needed, was missing.
You: Damn...amazing advances in dildo technology.
01:49 Me: ooh i got new shit now!
anyway..
so it was gone.
GONE!
i storm out and go straight to the lets baba and ask if he took it.
01:50 Me: he says no. and i believe him
so that leaves the moldovian 56 year old fat lady who works for us at the time.
01:51 You: heh
Me: she lives in the house (it was HUGE)
and though she's only 56 she looks and acts 87
she wears knitted black woolen leggings (edit: home knitted, with white polo-necked knickers underneath which show through!) and has tits that scrape her knees.
OR,
01:52 a turkish cleaning lady who is 46 but looks 56 and has been my once a week cleaning lady for 3 years.
so i'm fucked.
01:53 or rather i'm not but i am
You: But not by your pink vibrator
01:54 Me: exactly! so my choice is forget it and wait till i can save enough money to go to england or confront the plastic cock stealing bitches!
You: heh
"plastic cock stealing bitches" there are too many ways to interpret that.
Me: so i storm back down the corridor and face 'em
and i say.. in a direct translation of my furious and unprepared turkish..
01:56 "i have a pink, shiny, plastic peepee, that you put batteries in and it goes bbrrrrbbrrrbbrr. where the fuck is it?"
You: kij9oi
01:57 Me: they look at me blankly.
01:58 and i'm trying to gauge their faces, as i add "i know it was in that drawer, as i unpacked it myself 2 months ago. only you two and the lets had access. and they cant stand up yet. or take their nappies off. so where is it?"
01:59 they both shake their heads look embarrassed and try to walk away.
so i storm off instead.
and then 5 minutes later the turk comes up and says..
02:00 "she showed me it. i didn't take it but, my sister is single so if you do go and buy a replacement will you get one for her maybe?"
i SWEar and storm off again
02:01 and on my way to the bedroom i pass the moldovian who is putting washing in the machine..
02:03 she looks up and says "keda, i didn't take it, but i was wondering... you know... that i can't ever remember anything. and i'm a bit stupid... well i haven't done, the 'thing'.... for 3 years since i came to turkey and i wonder if that might be why i'm so forgetful. do you think i need to, you know, do it?"
i got my bag and left the house.
left. (and all i'm thinking in my fury and disgust is "shit woman, someone did you 3 years ago???" )
i never brought it up again.

02:04 until i told a friend who was married to one of the american consulate bigwigs.
i got invited to every party for months just coz of that story.
02:05 then i eventually met a female writer who wanted to incude in a book about turkish ex-pat harem stories.
she later wrote about it in time out and we did a piece together discovering all the sex shops which had newly opened here.
02:06 it was fun visiting them
and i got a new chrome and clear plastic rabbit which looks like a kitchen appliance. and
an incredible blow job machine.

02:07 thank the lord in retrospect for theiving cleaners.
You: Hmm
Me: i didn't say it would be sexy, i said it was funny.
You: I know
it's hilarious!
are you gonna to post this one?
Me: ooh you know me...
probably :#) *

*(embarrassed emoticon)

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Labels: istanbulundercover, questionable past lives

Edit: friday 7th july.

Britain today marked the first anniversary of the July 7 London bombings with a national two-minutes silence.

52 people died. 700 were injured. please think of their families a little today, and all of those who's lives were changed forever.

..and not just my legs.

red white and blue ;)

happy hnt babies. i'm off now to drink some milky tea.
slurp your way over to the links to find out why me pins are posing.

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Labels: hnt

you know when a relationship goes sour..?
and sometimes a drastic change is in order..?

we could re-evaluate our deeper feelings. our needs. our actions. we could decide it would be a good time for therapy. it might be time to change the kind of relationships we get ourselves involved in.
or at least the way we handle those relationships.

or we could just cut off our hair.

that works for me.
when i was 21 (ish i can't really remember exactly... too much booze, drugs 'n fags at that time to be entirely sure of the fine passage of time) i cut off my hair.

it really needed doing. the ends were scraaaGGY. i however didn't want a trim... that weren't gonna cut it for me, oh nooooo. drastic times call for drastic measures 'n all that. but of course on the
day i decided, it was bizarrely looking glorious. when i told the hairdresser (poor bugger) she looked at me in horror. i had hair like the lets. but brunette.

she passed the buck (or shears) to the manager. and even she said she would do it only on the proviso that i paid in advance! was i daunted? hell no. i had emotional issues to deal with. (i cant remember which ones exactly.. see above)
so paying in advance for therapy was fine 'n dandy w' me.

everyone in the salon was distraught. 'cept muggins.

i was enjoying the destruction. i took a sick pleasure in watching me locks fall in slo-mo to the cutting room floor.

when it was complete i hated it of course. i looked like bloody demi moore in ghost. though a lot less yummy

but did i really care? not much. i was improving my psyche.
i was shedding the trappings of... something.

i was re-inventing myself minus the baggage of earlier girlier days. i stepped out side the doors, lighter, uglier, yet FREE!

pahh!

it grew back.

i never felt the need to do that again. i now know what a pain in the arse short hair is. i had more bad hair days with an inch long barnet than i've ever had with flickable tresses.

(shut up mum.)

so i'm now happy wiv me mop. down and windswept when i'm feeling yummy. up 'n off the shoulder when i'm grubby or hot. easy peasy. no stylin no drying. wash and waddle is my freedom.

but then we lost the footie.
and a drastic change was definitely in order. i was becoming obsesssional. i was in love. and i was disappointed by my hearts desire yet again. oh woe.





and the wonderlets are my new all. my way to glory. sod the psyche. sod the hair. as a mum, if my fruitylets are fine all is well with the world.

so i'm a cut off THEIR hair when the going gets tough!

time for a disclaimer: actually their poor hair has NEVER been cut. i couldn't bear to do it. since they were born the beautiful blonde ringlets just grew and grew. rapunzelesque gorgeousness that their father told me constantly made them look slightly odd. "NO way " said i. "it's bloody marvelous! "

and it was. until of course it got hot round here.
and the poor dreadlets couldn't go a day without getting their incredibly beautiful hair wound up into to tight drealocky matted messes.

which itched and had to have hairbands cut out of.

boohooooo.

so in my post sven rage and frenzy i said "time"

time to cut those knots out of our lives. time to purge and release. time to say goodbye to childish things. time to release the knots.

and so here we are. wiser. sleeker. with a lot less baggage, and a lot less gnarly.

but was i happy...? HELL NOOOOOOOOoooooooo.

i cried i tell ya. cried.

a lot.

their baby hair 'all gone'

they are now officially girls. not babies.
and they are happy. and knotless.

finally.... a RESULT.

sod the football.

that should really be the end. i know. blah blah talks too much blah blah... but check this out please...

david walliams only just swam the bloody channel for charity!!! how fabulously ridiculous is that?! (*or ridiculously fabulous.. take your pick)



kisses darlings. and don't go doing anything drastic now will you.
unless of course you share ;)

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Labels: the wonderlets

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Labels: questionable past lives