Monday, July 26, 2010

Monday Morning Blues... and the not the Blues Music which I dislike intensely

Monday Morning Blues... and the not the Blues Music which I dislike intensely


Ever have one of those days when you know you were destined for greater things. One of those “Surely this is not what my life is about? I mean can't the world see I am a princess in disguise and need to be released from this world of drudgery and wild beasts and the inevitable alarm clock going off to proclaim it’s another day to earn your living?”

In order to explain my not so cheery mood I need to describe my Sunday.

On a whole it was pleasant day, other than this flu which seems to have claws of a vulture in my chest. I was in an okay mood. A little quiet and wanting a day at home; but then we received a call from one of Bern’s relative’s friend from Australia, Barrow.

We had never met her and had been trying to hook up since May but family commitments and trips to Port Edward seemed to prevent this from happening. I of course went into my panic mode of meeting new people, full of flu and looking like the Grim reaper is about to visit me but is clearly to scared to tell me it is my time – I fussed over the fact that I looked terrible. My hair seems to have taken on a completely new personality all of its own. It’s not like I do not have enough personalities to deal with already …no my hair has decided it wants one of its own. I am totally lost with the new hair style that seems to have sprung up over night and no matter how I dry it, straighten it, or try and disguise it; it still looks awful. And this of course does nothing for my self confidence. I look in the mirror, cringe and try to work miracles and then just give up and hope the customers and public see past the waves and curls and short fringe and feel sorry for me and give me the consideration I so badly deserve.



A person can only put on a mask and pretend all is well with the world if they are fully equipped with their War Paint, or body armour or protection spell. Whatever it takes just does not cut it for me at the moment. I try to hide the black Bags under my eyes with makeup but this is like trying to put a plaster on a gaping hole or poly filler a wall that needs serious reconstruction.



So here I sit on Sunday, look at the mirror, look at the hair, look at the bags that now reach to my chin and think, this cannot be my life. Please stop the world I want to jump off. There is not a hope in hell for me, no amount of hair teasing or blow drying is going to change the fact that my hair is on strike and is determined to ruin my life. I huff and puff and grab elastic hair bands and a big clip like thing, pull back the hair to try and put it up. Now my hair is mid short if you know what I mean. So it requires two elastics and a clip thing to pull it into place and the fringe looks like it is a bloody caterpillar and no amount of gel will plaster it down on my head. So I just give up and hope that Sarah (the new friend) is half blind and just as disheveled as I am …. Not a chance, I still have to meet anyone who is as disheveled as I am. I do not think this world could cope with two of me. I can’t cope with one of me.



I stand in the bathroom and glare at my reflection while Bern finishes in the bath. I mumble and glare at myself and Bern looks at me as she knows when I am in this mood, not amount of “Baby you look good” will calm my nerves and make me feel strong enough, thin enough, beautiful enough, clever enough or whatever to meet a new person. “Yes I admit it; my self confidence is at an all time low!”



The base just won’t play the game to hide the wrinkles and black saggy eyes as well. It is on its last days and spits out little drops of brown goo which I try to put on the sponge and magically apply over my face. This is like trying to paint a wall with a thimble of paint. This master piece is turning into an audition for the Bride of Frankenstein. It just cannot get any worse I tell myself. See I can be an optimist…. ITCAN’T GET ANY WORSE is optimism isn’t it?



My chest is on fire and I try to make the best of what God gave me. I eventually manage to squeeze a few more blobs of base out the makeup bottle and apply it under the eyes. I now look like a muskrat or one of those tourists who fell asleep in the sun with their sunglasses on. Yeah a bandit mask around the eyes. “Damit!” I mumble and apply Mascara, nearly poking my eye out as I sneeze with the effort. Have you ever tried to take Mascara off your eye lid and cheek? It’s like super glue and I decided after scrubbing my eye lid raw that this Sarah would now think I am a drug addict with my red eyes.



The black smudge on the cheek will just have to stay there because I am now crying tears or frustration and sheer exhaustion and think well Marilyn Munroe looked good with her beauty mark, I will just have a beauty challenge stripe. I can see Bern watching me and she says she knows I am ill and that I would have preferred not to go out but we need to get out the house and she was looking forward to meeting Sarah and next weekend we have a house full of people and the weekend after another house full of people.



Please don’t get me wrong, I am not normally such a stick in the mud or moody, it’s just that I have been struggling with flu since the 21st birthday on the 10th July and I am not looking my best. I assure Bern that it’s alright and she is right, I need to get out the house and I am also looking forward to meeting Sarah. I am just not feeling well and would rather be at my best when I meet new people because First Impression last and her impression of me is going to be “OH MY G why would Bern want to be with this hideous person who has hair that no word in the dictionary can be used to describe it!”



So I bravely leave the house after fighting off the kittens as they love to climb my legs in the bedroom when I give them some food to entice them into the bedroom so I can secure the house and set the alarms. I am now limping because Ginger Boy has decided he loves my Butt. I give up, what is it with my butt and animals? Is it that large that it sends out sonar messages for punishment? Or does it wobble and the kittens think it’s a magic toy that is hidden for them to discover. I give up, I am trying to slim it down but obviously not quickly enough.



I gingerly sit in the car, check my ankles out after changing shoes 4 times as my feet and ankles are covered in deep scratches as they hang on to whatever they feel like hanging on. The dogs seemed to have picked up my no nonsense mood and for once did not try to love me to death as I opened the gate for Bern to reverse and they watched me close the gate and get into the car with such forlorn expressions. My heart felt quite sad as I normally give them a love goodbye and a promise to return but today was not one of those days.



Bern and I drive to Hillcrest to meet Sarah and we are a little early so we walk around and browse in the shops, this was lovely except for the fact that the gel I had used to keep my hair in place had now decided to stand up like peacock on my head. All hard and defying my attempts to plaster it down. I accept my defeat and just take my glasses out my hand bag use it as a band on my head and hope that this is “Cool” as I have seen many people looking quite acceptable with their sunglasses on their head. I try to pretend the spiky hard gel hair does not stand up like soldiers on parade. I hold my shoulders back and walk with this air of defiance as I can tell myself over and over again that I look good and maybe just maybe I will believe it and my body will follow suit.



We go to the back of the restaurant in a dark corner so the spectacle of me does not chase away other patrons. I am sure the waiter took one look at me and decided to open with “ I am will not be serving you today- but welcome” this really boosted my self confidence no end I have to tell you. We sit there making small talk about publishers and books and my heart is still in the depths of despair while wait for Sarah to arrive. Now it’s getting slightly chilly but I had decided to leave my jacket at home and this only added to my discomfort and nerves. Then Sara arrived.



What a ray of sunshine to a bleak day. So cool so clam, so collected so well groomed and so beautiful! I scurry back into my chair and hope that she is vision impaired and greet her meekly. I watched her talk about her volunteer work she is doing and was reminded of how tough life is for the underprivileged. I am sure the last thing on their minds is that their hair is just not behaving themselves or that they feel a little ill. She regaled us with stories of Nepal where her boss sent her to a Yoga seminar which was for three days.



Sarah’s motto is to be open to new things (within reason of course) and she liked yoga and was looking forward to the sessions. Her eyes were opened very quickly to this New or maybe old style Yoga. It was filled with pot smoking bodies who were most probably trying to stand up in bodies collapsed positions or half tangled like pretzel positions as they were stoned and out of it- rather than do the Yoga positions the instructor was showing. She watched and participated in the Yoga only , staying clear of the billowing clouds of smoke that lay like a mushroom over the yoga hall; and one of the themes was letting go on ones inhibitions and just let it all hang out.



So she watched her fellow students throw themselves on the floor with no effort and they seemed quite at ease and let out screams of joy or terror depending on how hard they hit the floor and she found herself backing away from their mad hysteria only too feel her inner voice telling her she needs to try and accept the challenge.



So she slinked forward a little more, checked out the space next to her, behind her and in front of her….and attempted to throw herself onto the mats and throw a tantrum like the instructor was demonstrating only to sit down ladylike style and realized she needs to work on letting go of her inhibitions. She let out a small yelp and hoped that this would satisfy the instructor and that he would not ask her to come up for a one- on- one lesson or worse be sent to the time out corner for not following simple instructions. (Well I have embellished a little but not much - call it poetic license.)



Sarah was then invited for the Initiation where everyone is given new names like “Moon Flower” or “Angel tree” and she gracefully declined the invitation and explained that she needed to experience more and learn more about the culture before she felt educated enough to make the decision.



So she watched as the Guru was fawned over and mauled by the ladies and he was clearly enjoying the attention – kissing and hugging and touching his new converts. Her comment “NO… not for me thank you very much!” I had to giggle at her description of how living in Nepal did open her eyes but at the same time also sheltered her from the western world in a sense, she also described the shock to her system when she left and was exposed to the real world once again after her two year stay in Nepal - the naked legs and shoulders and arms openly exposed and on display at the airport was quite distracting as she had been in a village where everything was covered from head to toe. She gawked and was fascinated by the “LEGS” on display. We were reluctant to end the afternoon as Sarah was an inspiration to strive to be a better person and I hope we see her soon – for two reasons, she is great fun and to show her that I do have “Normal Hair and am actually considered quite presentable on most days!”



I should know by now that when I am reluctant to do something or join in something; I always land up having a really good time. We chatted and exchanged stories and I asked her a lot of questions about her work here in South Africa and am in awe of such self sacrificing people and have decided to work on my perceptions and look for a project where I can give back to the community.



Maybe I should start with something which involves animals. I seem to be working on my own little Zoo, now all I need to find is my own Doctor Doolittle who can talk to my cats and tell them I am not a scratch post or a toy.

My dogs finally seem to have understood that my yelps of pain and screams of “Give that back to me” are not an introduction for touch or catches or let’s trip mom up so she loses her teeth as she falls or breaks her delicate bones. This is not the case with the cats. You see they love me - Love me to death!

This became very apparent when I watched Bern sleep last night before her departure to Ladysmith this morning. She slept the sleep of the innocent and was at peace. I was this chew toy for the kittens and they enjoy this torment as they jump off the chest of draws onto me. Then fly off my shoulder at one of the dogs, or carry out their version of the Wrestling Match of the Century.



No matter how far under the duvet I tried to hide my feet Ginger Boy would burrow in and try to drag it out for further mutilation. He believes he is a HUNTER and my feet are his PREY. Thank goodness the sheets are red because I am sure I lost 25 pints of blood. Yes I know we do not carry that much blood but I am sure I was drained at least three times of my quota of blood. One of their favourite launching pads was…. Yes you guessed…. My butt.



Eventually the dogs decided they had had enough of the cats especially poor Jinx who is now being used as a pacifier by the kittens –Yes I said a pacifier. They have found they can suckle on her and she does not stop them – unlike their mother who decided that kittens that are 4 months old should not be suckling. Really I have the proof to show you. They lie down next to Jinx and help themselves and suckle and claw her and their purr boxes are on full volume. I try to help her by moving them, but my reward is that they “smack” me and just snuggle into jinx’s tummy and they are content. In desperation Jinx looked at me with her soulful eyes and I could hear her saying “Mommy! Do something.” So I let her and Fiona and Little Boy out while I settled the kittens down after feeding them pebbles. This seemed to do the trick and they fell asleep.

This was at 02h00. Great fun for me as I was by then totally exhausted. Over tired and grumpy and cold then hot from the fever and I know you are most probably sitting there reading this and wondering why I don’t put the cats outside or just give them away. Well there are windows open and it’s too hot to close them to keep the cats outside and ……. They are animals and do not understand that they are being a pain and I will not be cruel to animals not matter how tempted I am to throttle them when they hang on my exposed leg as it its s jungle bar and I LOVE THEM.



At 04h00 Bern got up to leave for Ladysmith and the kittens gave her such a dirty look for disturbing their beauty sleep when she threw the blanket off her; catapulting them off the bed. This did not deter them for long and the returned to “their” bed and snuggled up to me; All cute and soft and full of purrs - Such monsters in disguise.



Bern kisses me goodbye and off she goes. At 5h33 I shoot out of bed to make sure Mathew knows he needs to get ready for work, only to be grumbled at that he is going to walk to work and his alarm had not gone off yet. So I sulk back to bed mumbling that I will just let him over sleep and tell the cats that I am just not appreciated and sigh the sigh of a mother feeling rejected and abused and climb into bed only to jump out of the bed as if there is a snake in the bed.



I gingerly touch my top part of my butt cheek. There is this humongous bump. It feels like it is the size of an egg. I carefully walk to the mirror, now limping because my brain has told me that anything this big has to be excruciatingly sore and there is no ways I can walk normally. I examine bump and my eyes nearly jump out of my head. I hear Mathew in the passage and he sticks his head in the room to say hi. He seem me examining my butt (NOT NAKED) I AM WEARING SLEEP SHORTS AND AM IN NO WAY INDECENT. Well I am sure me checking out my butt must have looked quite indecent.



Any way I hear Mathew saying we had better call an ambulance as he is sure I need butt replacement and he had better get the HAZCHEM people on standby because if that boil/bump explodes he is going to need to be flown out of here to the hospital for seriously infected and disturbed people” in a very sarcastic voice. I tell him he is not funny, and explain that it’s Ginger Boys Fault and I need surgery and therapy and he shakes his head and says

“Really mom, it’s no bigger than button, so I say yes “A button from a Giant’s Over Coat “in a squeaky irritated voice and waddle/ limp off in disgust.



I hear him giggling in the kitchen and between giggles he offers me coffee. Now I know it’s serious. Now I know I am dying; Now I know the end of the world is near…… Mathew was obviously trying to play down my injury and pacify me as he never makes me coffee in the morning.



Im in  a state of absolute panic I send Bern a message, announcing that I am dying and I that I have a serious aliment and that I now am sporting three butt cheeks and she needs to get back home to take care of me in my time of illness. I go into great detail about how bad the bump is and how Mathew abused me and wanted to call the Hazchem specialists in defuse this exploding throbbing lump thingy before I blew the world apart or cause irrevocable damage to the Ozone Layer



Her response!!!!!!!!!! Hahahahahahaha, you are so funny.



Such compassion. So this is why I know I am living someone else’s life. A princess would never have to fix her own injuries and I Bet she would not have kittens that use her as a trampoline and if they did they would have silk covered paws and they would never mistake her for a jungle gym. Has anyone seen my life…….. I am sure it’s out there somewhere.

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