I swear

Seriously, F^#* Me

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I’m so stupefied and shocked, I have to say that again:

Seriously, F#&k Me. (Never mind my choice of characters are different every time).

This week I finished writing up two book reviews. I was going to post my first one up, tonight. P.D. James’, Death Comes To Pemberley.

Only 2 nights ago I was proofreading that review. And I was still astounded at James’ age, moreover, that she was still writing at that age. So I looked her up and sure enough, she was 94.

Was 94.

This morning at work I walked past a TV, to see a still image of her.

“P.D. James” it said underneath her photo.

“1920-2014.”

What????

She was alive two nights ago when I wikipedia’d it!

I googled, and the news had broken of her peacefully passing away, only 2 hours earlier.

What the fuck is happening in the world. I’m not looking up people any more.

“With old age, it becomes very difficult. It takes longer for the inspiration to come, but the thing about being a writer is that you need to write.” – P.D. James

SmikG’s got her balls back

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Because for a while, I seemed to have lost them.

To explain, and make a short story even shorter, I’m in the midst of a HUGE photo inventory where I’m collecting all matter of photos from all matter of devices from the past couple of years, and printing them out to organise into photo albums. Yes, I still DO photo albums.

So I remembered I had a couple of photos on my facebook account that weren’t mine, uploaded by my family and friends, and so I went searching, one night earlier this week, through the years of 2012, 2013, and now, to find them.

What I found was astonishing. My journey had been for one thing, yet in the midst of it all, I had somehow accidentally though very appropriately discovered something completely different. Apt. I found that I once, had gusto. Guts. A loud voice. An opinion.

Balls, as such.

In amongst photos, and check-ins, and posters friends and family were putting up on my wall, I was looking at my past status updates… and wow. I actually had completely forgotten that I used to write like that. That that’s how I put my feelings and my thoughts out. A lot of it was just “BLAH!” An outburst, a sudden feeling that I clearly just hit ‘post’ on and let the world see what I was feeling at the time, with no censorship.

It was almost like reading about another person’s life. Reading these status updates, I was amazed, embarrassed and proud all at different times. Most of all, I was inspired. I was like ‘damn it! I wanna get back to that place.’

Without realising it, all this time I had lost it. I thought back to how, and why, and when it was that things changed. I think it was a combination of things. We’ve had life, we’ve had death, blah, blah – without trivialising any of those important life changes, I think those were some major factors that affected my habits. I got personal, secretive, and not willing to let the world, just ‘anyone’ into our private, intimate world of troubles, fears, hopes and joys. The world and all of its hurts and happiness,’ made me just a little withdrawn, just a little scared, of EVERYTHING. Both fear, and love, made me go into myself. Both of those emotions can make you feel so much.

That, along with the addition of some of my annoying facebook ‘friends’ posting shit like

“my 175 month old is just so cute today, I can just squash him!” (constant annoying posts about child and updates on them every 45 minutes)

“I am just so upset, I wanna die.” (attention seeker alert)

“I just went to the front door, and found a parcel waiting for me!” (grasping at straws, why are you posting vague bullshit?)

“my husband is just the best, I love him soooo much! (hiding the fact of marital woes)

(And then there are those that post 280 photos of their child’s first days in this world, which made me want to quite frankly NEVER upload photos of my baby girl).

All this pretense, and lying, and just whole lotta BS drove me right up the wall, and made me want to never in any way be like THEM.

(Life’s purpose: do not be a sheep).

I’m thinking now though, I can still be myself. I’ll never be like them, because I have more self-awareness. And yes, some may even say that blogging is also a pretense. However I think the blogging world, from what I’ve experienced of it anyway, is a lot more deeper than the superficiality and “look at me relaxing by the pool on the island getaway trip-of-a-lifetime holiday” showing-off that occurs on facebook, the bragging that often covers up things we never learn about.

I think of it in relation to myself. I have put up photos of myself, with Hubbie, with baby girl. And although everything looks great and all ideal in the photos, no one can see, no one knows of the background story: how for example, before we took that photo out during lunch on that gorgeous perfect Sunday, baby girl was cracking it at home because she was tired. I look good in the photos, but no one knows I was in my pyjamas ‘til 11:30am because I was doing dishes, rinsing washing, and kept changing baby girl’s nappy because she kept filling it up. We look refreshed, but that’s because we had coffee, and no one knows how she’s been getting up at night, and how it takes me 5 minutes just to creep out of her room at night and close the door quietly, in fear that any noise will wake her up and I’ll have to do the whole thing all over again – and that’s just the leaving the room part. Don’t ask me how I get her to sleep. We look put-together in that photo, but seriously, you should see our house, when we’re NOT expecting visitors. And I’m smiling, but you don’t want to enter my mind and hear the demons I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks, the internal to and froes that’s made me seriously consider seeing a psychologist.

All of this, is not often spoken of. On facebook, certainly not. In the blogging world however, refreshingly it is.

I’ve diverged a bit. All in all, I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of being quiet. I’ve had enough of letting other’s crap affect the way I live my life. I’m coming out, in the most fantastic fashion, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone says anymore.

If I cause trouble, then so bloody be it. Better out than in.

The balls they are a swaying.

It’s a weighty issue

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I may not be very popular after this post – much like the rich man who cries poor – but, as I try so hard and so often NOT to say in blog-land, FUCK IT.

So, people who read this blog often, and all of my family and friends, will be very aware that I am now a mother. Almost 14 months on, and she is the best thing, the most amazing blessing, that has ever happened to Hubbie and I.

I’m very grateful, for a lot of things post-pregnancy. I’m grateful that we are starting to see her pull herself up, we’re grateful in hearing her babble and try to talk, I’m grateful that we’re becoming more social and heading out more… and I’m also grateful that my body has returned to its pre-pregnancy size. In fact, it did so pretty soon after having her.

That’s just the way my body is. I’m not going to act all proud, because I didn’t do anything for it. It did it, itself.

And that’s the thing. I’m so bloody sick of people, looking at me, and commenting on my body. Often it comes from a genuinely surprised/complimentary place “how did you have a baby?” or “it looks like you never had one!”

I don’t know how to respond to these remarks, though kind, other than to smile and laugh. What do I say? Sometimes I say thanks, other times I mumble something, or direct it back to the person and say that they too look amazing after having kids – which is not a lie, I won’t say it unless I mean it.

But then there are this other lot, who comment on me being so skinny, to the point that they’re not being complimentary, not a bit, not a little, nothing at all – but instead their words come off jealous, biting, and snide.

They look you up and down and all they say is “you’re too skinny.”

Or as you walk to the lunch buffet they comment with a smirk “oh, you’re eating?”

And then when they say their goodbyes they tell you to “eat more” with a laugh.

These are people within my family.

Are you fucking for real????

(Deep breath, for my rebuttal).

Not that I have to explain, ANYTHING to ANYBODY, but:
– I am about the same size I was before pregnancy. No one was shitty about my weight then. Why are people all up in a huff now that I’ve had a baby? Am I meant to have handlebars and be overweight to be acceptable?
– I eat whatever I like. Some days I am truly rushed, but make no mistake I make up for it, every chance I get, especially on weekends.
– I like to wear fitted clothes, and I always have. This seems to be an affront to these vindictive people now. I wore baggy, trackie, homely clothes for about a year, and I remember the first time I put on make-up and got really dressed up which was about 7 weeks after baby girl was born, I felt re-born. Like a new woman.
I wore those baggy clothes for so long, there are some I’ve actually now thrown out. I want to move on, and go back to the way I always used to dress, because that’s me. I like to dress up, make myself up, as it makes me feel good. I do it for me, not for anybody else, and I shouldn’t have to feel bad or apologise for wanting to make myself look good and consequently feel good.
– Is it considered morally right to stare at a person you think is too fat and say to them “gee, you are too fat” “stop eating” and “what are you doing to yourself?” People wouldn’t dream of actually saying that to an overweight person, so why is it deemed ok if the person is skinny? No person’s body should be judged, even if that judgment is veiled in a pretend compliment ( ”she won’t get upset, I’m saying she’s skinny”)

I am absolutely sick to my core of these judgments. It’s really annoying, as it is hurtful. No one should be subjected to remarks like these, least of all women, who are already to susceptible to media and societal pressure to look a certain way, especially women who have had children. Your body goes through so many physical and other-worldly changes, that to then scrutinise that woman’s body after she’s put on weight for carrying a baby, to then losing it (or trying to) and feeling so many different emotions and feelings and thoughts of “how do I look?” “am I good enough?” “will my husband still find me attractive?” – women’s own private thoughts about themselves are well enough without the added inspection of people who think it is their duty to inform others if they’re adequately sized. The number of times I asked my husband what he thought of my body post-pregnancy I cannot even begin to count. I know I’m skinny. That’s my body type, I’ve always been that way. I never wanted to look unwell, or sick, which is why I’d ask “am I too skinny?” I was breastfeeding for over a year, and that equals your baby depleting your stores in many, many different ways. Hubbie would always say “no,” and he continues to. I know I already know the answer, but it’s annoying people who think it’s their right to pass judgment, that unfortunately, make me question myself.

But no more, mother fuckers. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself. Because your head is too big and your nose is too pointy.