The BabySitters Club!!!..and a few more.

Mullet Clad President!

When you're a kid, usually you'll have a go at making your own club. Or at least, most self-respecting 80s kids did. I remember starting the first ever Leichhardt State Primary School Gymnastics Club! Basically, it consisted of myself and my bestest 3 or 4 friends at the time, meeting up at playtime and doing tricks whilst feeling superior to all the other kids and saying - no you can't be in our club. The fact that I could only do a half-assed cartwheel and a Tower of Pisa-like Handstand, was of no consequence to me. I was the self-appointed president and as a highly-bullied kid, enjoyed the rare power of telling the others - nope you can't come in!


My club lasted about 4 days. The teachers sat us down and in their 80's like teaching way, said that we had to pull our heads in and let the others play or else we'd get lines for being mean shits. Bastards.. I even had a special pen I used to write down the order of who was performing first.. Sigh...

As we move through life, we become part of clubs but they are not as defined and obvious as we might think. They are the "join the club" kinda groups. We affiliate with different people at different times and through this, learn, grown, change and perhaps evolve into someone completely different from the Grade 4 President of the Gymnasts-Who-Look- Slightly-Stupid Club.

My Formal Photo... WTF...

For me, my first real group-culture club was the "picked on" kids club. To slightly touch on it, being a mullet-clad, high achieving classical pianist with slightly kinda moderate right-wing views was not the recipe for popularity and  successful high school relationships. I've been called every name, had every kind of lunch box food thrown at me and endured all sorts of hilarious practical jokes (for them - assholes!) and so when I see a bullied kid, I immediately know they are my people. They are in my club. Often I meet grownups who can't believe my pathetic school history. All it takes is a quick whip out of my High School formal pic and their "Oh..." response and they get it. I get it. Whilst it was cruel and crappy, it's made me empathetic and a people pleaser. I want to do right by people. I want to be liked. This club that i fell into, whilst isolating and debilitating, is one that ultimately I'm glad to have been a part of. I'm a better person for it.

My next club was the "Young and Married Club." Here I was, married at 21 and trying to find like-minded 21year old married people who still wanted to go to nightclubs and have fun but also enjoy board games and dinner parties with recipes made from this new fancy mag called "Donna Hay." www.IMPOSSIBLE.com.  So i had to go further afield and look at - gasp - old people. And from this, I found a plethora of wonderful and exciting people. I had to learn things to be able to converse and keep up with the grownups, but I enjoy best friends who range from 70-24 now. I love meeting new people. 

Grade 4 Fete. Totally Cool.

Of course the ultimate Club for a woman is the Mother Club. I've done that. I've done that 4 times over. I can write volumes (that what they used to call Multiple parts to a Book for those under 20 playing at home ha!) And within the Mother Club are all the sub clubs: Breastfeeder/Bottle feeder/cloth nappy/Make Food/Playgroup/Homegroup/DairyFree/Gluten Free/Play-based Curriculum/Flashcards/Natural Birth/More than 2-3-4 kids/Only Child/Dummy Club/Thumb Sucking Club/Homeschool/Private School/Smacking Club/Time out Club/your child is a mongrel club blah blah blah blah. This is a club that I feel I have some serious stripes in. Yet, just when you think you know everything, you get into the Teenager Club.. Fuck.. My stripes just got handed back and I'm at the beginning again. Still learning. 

Here's some other clubs I've been a part of:
*The 4 children under 7 club
*The Isolated from Family Club
*The My Husband Works Away Club
*The Gifted Child Musician Club
*The Absolutely No Money and 2 Children Club
*The Parent Volunteer at School Club
*The I'm a Community Volunteer Club
*The Miscarriage Club
*The LIving with someone with Depression & Anxiety Club
*The I've Lived in a Mining Town Club
*The I'm not Naturally Thin Club
*The My Child has a problem Club
*The I'm going Crazy from trying to access services for my child Club
*The I crashed an uninsured Car Club
*The I'm an executive on a committee Club
*The I Stayed for The Kids Club

Pre 2nd Go at WeightWatchers

*The I'm frequently a part of funerals Club
*The Divorcees Club
*The I've Had a Bad Perm Club
*The I've been to Weight Watchers 3 times club
*The I Hate a lot of different foods don't judge me Club
*The My job is Playing Music at your event Club
*The I Love ABC&SBS Club
*The I don't watch Reality TV Club
*The We just lost our job before Christmas Club
*The My Ears stuck out and I was Teased About Them Club
*The Other Woman Club
*The Custody Sharing Club
*The Dancing Mum Club
*The Private Music Teacher Club
*The My Ex Spouse and I get along Extremely Well Club
*The I Smacked My kids when they were little and Very Naughty Club
*The I Wear High Heels a LOT Club
*The I Dress a Bit Differently at Times Club
*The Blended Family Club
*The I Found My Soulmate Club

There's more. Some flippant, some much more personal. 

But out of all of these mentioned clubs, by far the most challenging and rewarding is my latest club. The Step-Girlfriend-Parent club.

This one is all-encompassing. Every adjective you might want to use. This Club is one I had no bloody idea about until I started living it. And that's my point of this whole blog today - no one has ANY idea about ANYTHING until you're in the damn club. And then, thank FUCK for Google and those others that are in the club that you come upon, because they are your life-line, your understanding, your venting and your education. We make it up as we go along, a lot of the time. I spend a lot of time worrying about how to do things right, better, consistently and with compassion and just hope that I'm getting it semi-ok. I take it seriously, and I want to learn. I want to get this right, many days in the face of opposition and road-blocking, and some blissful days when the outside influences fall silent and we can just groove through this blended-co-parenting-step thing. This Club that I'm a new member of, is lifelong and I'm at the start of it. I hope to earn my stripes one day, and be able to help some other newbie to the Club. In the meantime, I'll just keep on keepin on and hoping that I'll get into a few more Clubs I've got on my secret wish list. They include:

*The I've watched my 4 Children plus my other half 2 be successful and happy Club
*The I've travelled to sooooo many overseas countries I'll make you want to stab me Club
*The I've enjoyed my parents living happily and healthily to an Old Age Club
*The All the kids have left home Club!
*The I got my Degree Club!
*The I Grew old, yet retained youthful and extremely  good looks, with Andy Club
*The Look At That I actually DID end up getting Good at Guitar Club
*The Grandparents Club
*The I had a shitload of people at my funeral because it turns out I was an alright person Club.

The Ears...

Bad Perm!

Good luck with your Clubs my friends. I hope they make you learn and grow. I hope you begin to see more, judge less and be more content. I hope you morph into complete EXCELLENCE!!

As usual.. I don't give a fig about typos, bad grammar or mis- appropriation of Capitals. I also use language. Cause I'm in the People Who Say Fuck A Lot Club too.. 


Till next time...

12 Steps to Sobriety

Warning - Typos and Lauguage. Cause that's how I roll.

I've been a diet coke addict since 1999. Weight Watchers got me hooked. Back in the days when I was regularly whipping up equal parts butter and caster sugar as a mid-morning snack in my newly acquired bachelorette pad, it wasn't long before I clipped my "Save $33 registration fee!!" coupon from my That's Life and found myself joining the dreaded weigh-in queue.

That was around the time when the "points" system was in. It made everything easy. 20points a day to lose weight. Get a few extra if you exercise, lose a few when you dropped weight, store a few for the weekend = easy. All vegies bar potatoes and corn were 0 points, pies were 13points, 5 chicos for 1, Crunchies 7, Fillet of Fish no cheese 6, Small Maccas chips 4,  --- you can see how well this worked for me. (yes.. I consistently ate Salad, selected fast food products, chocolate and lollies nearly the ENTIRE time I was on the program.)
But you know what else was 0??

Salsa
Equal
Water
Diet Drinks.. 
Diet Jelly.. 
Diet-Love-Of-My-Life-Coke.

And thus began the relationship. I wanted to drop weight, i hated exercise, i still wanted my lollies, I liked salad but I was so hungry all.the.damn.fricken.time. So I'd have a glass of DC to get a sugar fix and tie me over till the next meal. And when i say glass I mean those kinds of glasses/buckets that Irish Larger is served in at fancy bars - those extra mo-fo big ones - hell yes I'm thirsty and hungry as hell and have you seen the size of me?!?! Godammit barwoman just give me the damn gun and I'll top myself up!

And so it began. IT wasn't CRAZY amounts to begin with. Just a glass every 2nd or 3rd day. I started having kids and never once looked at my spectacular icy cold bevvy as anything more than my version of coffee. By the time I was onto my 3rd child, it was well established that I was a DC addict within my playgroup circle. Coffee dates would happen at freinds houses and the ones who loved me best, would have a bottle ready to go. And even though i always said jokingly "oh no! I brought my own I don't expect you to support my habit!" - I totally loved you a little bit more if you did :D Although not the time you gave me the off ones 6 months out of date Shelley - they tasted like ass= love died a little that day.




Yes - OFF DC.. I bet some of you don't even know DC can go off right? Well It can. But do you know my palette got so refined I could tell if it was a fresh batch, out of date, out of a can, bottle, glass or a few months off expiring? And do not even get me FREAKING started on the intricacies of a perfectly balanced post mix blend.. JEEEEEESUS how hard can it be?! Wine Sommeliers be jealous - you couldn't dream of competing with my pallet. #EffinSkills

And speaking of Post mix.... Subway.... (cue the heavenly music and a burst of rainbows and butterflies!) Subway,, I want you to know that the impact of this break up with DC has affected our relationship in the most devastating way. Where once I used to bust through the door, bypass the queue, ignoring the- "that bitch pushed in!!" looks whilst I sashayed up to the register to cooly declare- "Just a large Diet Coke" please,, I'm now faced with looking forlornly at your large-handled push doors as I sadly walk on by. You had the biggest drink in town. And it was always the perfect blend. It's you who I miss the most. And I can't hear the jingle "Subway eat fresh!" without thinking of our jingle "Subway drink a Fuckload have to pee in 20mins!"... I miss you.. Wasn't it goooood?.. Wasn't it fiiiine?....

I miss my DC with my omelettes. Because a 3 egg, spinach, mushroom, tomato, cheese, garlic, spanish onion sometimes ham omelette just tastes-- well -- lonely without my 570ml beer stein DC to wash it down. And I miss DC with my dinner. Because every dinner was made better with my icy liquid which always paired well with both red and white meat. #versatile.  And I miss DC when I go out to a restaurant. Because no matter what shoes I have on and what kick-ass outfit, I now feel boring as all hell when i say "Oh,, just a water with a slice of lemon oh my god I want to cry of boredom kill me now and the peeing that goes with this water fuuuuuuck!!!"

Look for the Glass.. It's there in it's 570ml glory..

I do like to play a cool game though these days in my post-addict-water-increased-toilet-paper-purchasing-world. I like to play - "Let's go back through Christie's 900+ facebook photos and count the DC cans/bottles/glasses in the frame!" game. Kinda like a Where's Wally - only featuring liquid poison in a can as opposed to badly dressed harmless characters! Every time I see one in a pic - I want one.                                                                                              
Which brings me to my next thing. I want one. Long time advocates of my separation are always keen to know "how do you feel!?!" which is always said with a loveable Christmas look - you know? the mixture of admiration/excitement/curiousness and anticipation!!! Well GUESS WHAT!!!?!!

"No different and tired as fuck" 

Is the sad truth of my completely honest answer. I feel no different. I don't feel like my insides have been cleansed, Oh shit that reminds me I forgot to shower - right! On it after this.... My skin isn't freaking brighter god dammit. I still get blackheads! My hair is still grey, I still have bad breath in the mornings, I've got this one funky back hair that---. So yeah - No. Discernible. Health. Amazing. Benefit. Feelings. At. All. #rippedfreakinOFF! 

And not only do I NOT feel like a 19 year old on the inside now, thanks to my now non-existent caffeine levels compared to my "Averaging 22 cups of coffee a day equivalent caffeine intake" I am batshit tired All.The.TIME.. So, to counteract that,, I have taken up drinking normal tea and (gulp)- freaking flower tea. I swear want to write myself a death threat for being such a lame ass flavoured water drinker. How did I GET HERE?!???  Oh But remember my dear readers -  I'm already drinking Water,Water & Lime thanks,, Water Water and lemon just water water as well.  So the toilet paper consumption is frankly,, just fucking ridiculous.. I have now swapped my guilt about secretly drinking 3L of DC a day to fairdinkim guilt about the amount of cut down trees being flushed down my pipes. #howdidIGEThere?!!


LAstly, I really don't know how I did get here. My 12year old caught me out in the end. Turns out everyones a freaking math genius around here and loves to add. So she's at the bin, counting the bottles and looks up aghast and says- 
"Mum - did you drink all this today?..." 
(my teeny tiny inner voice of self loathing- yes..)  
"What!? Oh, I dunno, I had a friend over, um some was flat, I dropped a glass and yeah no.."  
"Mum. That's 5 Litres." 
(cue the youtube video of the Atom bomb exploding) (has an "oh.my.god." moment)
"What are you doing up here - When did you last practice Flute huh!?! Go clean your room!"

And that was it. 5 weeks since cold turkey. There were headaches, cravings, shakes, head spins and the yearning - oh man the yearning NEVER STOPS. 

But ----- I FUCKING DID IT! #FISTPUMP! #21GUNSALUTE! #GETMEAFLOWERTEASTAT!

Dear Diary.. It's been a while.

2 years since I last blogged and man I feel the pressure!

So to ease my way back in gently, I thought I'd just do a quick diary entry for today.

Dear Diary

It started with the "barp barp BARP" of the nasty alarm. Faaark... I hate waking up. No I HATE waking up!!!! So i snoozed the obligatory 2 times, 6mins each time and dragged myself up, looked at the clock and realised the race was on to be out the door in 24 mins. Hmmm.. Decide to skip shower  as saves water and electricity. Make up can also be applied in the car. Is my mascara still in the ashtray?? Affirnative! Cue Child 3 and his quest for blasted swimming crap to take to school. Done. and done again after he lost it. And the fucking RE DONE an hour later after school calls to inform me of lack of actual swimming crap AT SCHOOL. Mental note diary, must thank husband for putting down the protein shake and racing out to deliever cargo. Also, must come up with a list for potential future grown up jobs for Number 3 which don't have a great call for a working memory. Or common sense..

Kids out at school, not look like applying said Mascara whilst driving. Not successful  Care factor - maybe 3 or 4..... On to job, went well but note Diary - joking to 2 and 3 yr olds about picking their noses, usually just ends with them actually picking their noses. Or at least draws their attention to their nose whereby their little finger feels the need to check the internal maintenance of the nostril and go at it for at least a minute. Lesson learned Diary.

Refused the evil temptation of Golden Arches today Diary and felt triumphant. Great feeling and I felt it I think 42 times or at least every minute before I actually gave up and decided that I should share my good feelings around and offer patronage to a local business. Screw Sat NAV- Who knew my car pretty much self drives to the Big M now?

Resumed cooking project "XMAS LOVE N' BAKE: and am constantly humbled by the various ways that sugar, cocoa and butter can be made into edible versions of,, well,, heaven or sex - it's just too hard to decide?! Hands down the TIME magazine person of the year needs to go to MISSMOLLY47 for her outrageously amazing Chocolate Slice recipe. Hunt this woman down and reward her for crying out loud! 

Diary you will be proud - I excersied! No I really did - bonafide sweating and odour so much so that I wont be able to skip another shower. I also did NOT in any way UNDO it by sampling a semi-large section of fricken fabulous chocolate slice.. Care/Self Loathing Factor - maybe 8/9... actually, probably 9.. 

Watched one of shared favourite TV shows with Life Partner and it was nice. There's something really special about sharing 48mins in total silence at different ends of the couch Diary.. 

Did Google search of name after reading a news story of someone doing the same and became re-acquainted with my old musings. It's hard to believe I am so hilarious Diary. I have a serious typo issue but care factor, 2/.W.........

Approaching bed time - have not eaten anything since sexy slice so feelings of triumpancy have returned. I may reward myself with  a piece of slice. Will let you now tomorrow Diary.

Till then, it's good to be back,..

10 Observations from the Reformed Faceyholic..

My recent attempt to get off facebook written about 2months ago.. Still battling the addiction but at least I've culled my 16 Scrabble games a day + 2 hours of bejeweled habit down to nothing.. I just eat more now...Grrrr.

Number One. I was and still remain the absolute guru-swami, ninja, Ghandi, She-ra goddess of bejeweled. You know it and I know it and as long as i’m off the applications, that’s the ONLY way you’ll be seeing your name at no 1 instead of mine.. Enjoy it until my great comeback which will be 10times bigger that John Farnhams 7th Final Last Show EVAH TOUR!!!

Number Two: See Number one but insert “Collapse” instead of Bejeweld and there you have it. Again.. Cause that how the ambi-dexti-gamers like me roll…

Number Three: My facebook status updates were more often than not, thinly veiled judgements or criticisms (my gosh how many s‘s’s does that damn word have!) and it’s a shame now that I’ve deleted all those “friends” they’ll never know that it was them that I was judging or criticizing.. Sharron… FYI.. If you have enough energy to boot up your puter, type in the password and string 250 characters together, you’ve got enough energy to take a fricken panadol and stick your headache and hemorrhoids up your butt IN PRIVATE..

Number Four: It becomes waaaay easier to judge people from afar when you see the groups that they join.. People.. “I reeally like touching Rabbits” might be okay if your 4yrs old and holding a Rabbit but Adults? ... Consider you judged = some queer pervert.

Number Five: People who pointed out my typos pissedd me orf.. Oh thsat’s right - you’ll never know cause I deleted you…

Number Six: On facebook, I was stunning.. Dn’t believe me - check it out! There’s not one ugly or unflattering photo of me, my kids or the hubbie. That’s right people - I’m this happy and good looking ALL the time. ALL of the time DAMMIT!!

Number Seven: It takes a looong time to really get to know Facebook like I did. Friends would ring me up to get them started and I’d get to try out my Indian accent in my adopted role as “Tech Support.” I’d even drop the phone, zone out during the conversation (because I was SLAMMIN a HUGE bejeweled score) and occasionally just hang up to really get into my “method” acting. They’d always ring bacl though - cause they knew i would point their little cursors in the right direction, hear their begrudging thanks and say “Please Come Again” knowing they would. Ahhhhh.. It was great knowing just about everything....

Number Eight: It was a great way to fill in time when my mum calls.. We had a routine, she called, I would load up bejeweled,“Hmm? Uh ha Uh ha - oh no! hmm?” and then HA Karen Thompson Take that I win!! Oh sorry Mum - yesss? Oh NO!” Now it’s like - oh hi mum! Really? SIX centimeters of rain!? Well. Fascinating. Yes I heard. No he didn’t what’s that? Hmm? What! SIX centimeters of rain!?! Well..” ............. I actually have to listen now. It’s fun. really.. soooo much better than bejeweled...heaps.
Number Nine: Sarcasm never really translated for me on Facebook which is a shame as it’s one of my most valued assets.. I saved it for peoples useless updates.. “I made myself some toast this morning and it was perfectly brown on both sides.” To which i would write "Wow!" See - there it was! Did you get it? Try adding these words to it - you’re a dickhead.. NOW you get it !... Facey definitely needed a DISLIKE button and a TOOL button. I should patent that.

Number Ten: I really do miss facey and some of the folks I made myself cull.. They keep popping up “Reconnect with Justin” “Send a message to Jess” Justin I feel we connected at MITRE 10 didn’t we!!!??!! - Jess I’ll CALL you I SWEAR but by the power of Grayskull I say NOOOOO FACEBOOK!!!
Besides, know if i go back,,, well,,,, my dad just might kill himself as I think he’s finally made it to the top of the bejeweled chart this week.. .. But for how long???

If I put TITS in the title does it mean you'll read this??

Again an oldie, written just after my awesome friend Jelly's 30th birthday...

So many of you may know that I went to a day spa about a month ago, to surprise my best mate on her 30th… A naked day spa. Like - you know those ones that you see on TV with all these “I’m so comfortable with my body I bare it to everyone” kinda women in them, all very equally naked? The scenes where white towels and steam are everywhere and your choice of “ginger-tofu and a hint of god-knows-what-else” scented exfoliating cream?? And licorice tea? I shit you not… Cause EVERYONE, at one stage, whilst sucking on a licorice strap has thought to themselves - “Gee, wouldn’t it be awesome if you melted this stuff down and like, infused it with some Earl-Grey and then,,, added soy milk!” Mmmmmm…

So anyway, there I was in the change room, at the all-naked- we-are-all-at-one-with-our-body, trendy day spa and I thinking “oh my bloody god.” My hands were shaking and even though I’d previously had 4 weeks of starving and denying natures only good food group - the saturated chocolates and pastries group,, it was down to this choice - take it all off or be a sulk??....

I absolutely sulked it. I left my little singlet on, and my black knickers which covered my whole butt and a good 2 inches of my top leg, sucked my stomach in and headed out to climb into the spa to join the birthday girl who incidentally, had not sulked it and was wearing only her birthday suit… Most of her friends however had also sulked it and this somewhat surprised me as some of them had wayyyy better assets than me (from what I could see even if it was under a bikini top!)

Now the birthday spa got better when the champagne came out and I had my very first virgin glass,, then my second, and mabe even a 3rd or 4th but hey, by then who can count when you’re trying so hard to stay upright on a chair and remember finer details such as “no dips on the platter and licorice tea” for later, sober, blog writing times.. We grew rowdier and the spa attendants had to tell us to shush due to people having weird karmasutra-sounding-like “treatments.” It was somewhere coming back from the drinky room, on route to the sauna room, where I decided that i was gonna get at least semi-naked. So we sauna-ed and i found out that neck rests look a lot like booster seats when you’re a bit pissed and that if one adds water to the coals, no matter how pretty the steam is, the room gets hotter.. Bad drunken girl.. Who let her into the sauna!?!

And with that, it was onto the steam room.. So we sat around and started the - “Oh you’re legs are great, oh you look great for 3 kids, oh no the pubic afro is totally IN!” talk and I became overwhelmed to get my gear off - the top at least - and I’d like to think it was the alcohol in me that peer pressured the others to get their tops off too but it may have been also my fondness for perving at boobs… (kidding!!! I promise!!) And by the grace of peer pressue, alcohol and perhaps other people quests to see boobies too,, almost all of us, got our shirts off and out tits out!!!

And so we sat there and were liberated!! (or maybe that Ceremonial Trumpeting Music was only playing in my head?!) There were all these childless firm boobies and big ones and even BIGGER ones and smaller ones and then we all got talking about who wanted theirs to be more north (um.. me!?!), more centered (oh look at that - me again!), bigger (well it’s a fricken HAT trick now!), smaller boobs, bigger nipples, pierced nipples, pinker/darker/smaller!!! Now I KNOW why those bimbos do those “Girls Gone Wild” shows!! - cause getting your top off and being at one with the “sisterhood” is SO MUCH FRICKEN FUN!!!! Next time, I’m having like - 5 glasses of champagne and gettin it all ORF!! Woo Woo!

My name is Christie and I am a binge-a-holic...

Intresting to note that I originally wrote this in 2008 yet it could have been last week.. THe never-ending quest to fit into the skinny jeans... Or even the semi-stretch ones. Or just the size 14...

I am.. It’s true.. From as far back as I remember, I was sneaking into the cupboard, armed with the huge tablespoon that we used for every quality bake, and hoeing into the Milo, the drinking chocolate, the Quik and on one disarming occasion, the fricken coca… yuk factor of 1001!

Franklins was the supermarket of choice back then.. They made exceptionally horrible imitations of Kit Kats which my poor savings-conscious mama believed was “just a good as the real ones” and thus, planted them into our lunchboxes everyday - to go neatly with the No Frills potato chips, soggy ham and lettuce sanga and cream bun.. I ate those pretend things by the hundreds, each time trying to fill the void of what I new REAL ones tasted like...

I started cooking when I was around 8. By then I had figured out that the only way to get the biggest lick of the spoon, was AFTER you’d just brewed up a fresh lot of cupcake batter which for most, would normally make 12 but for us - usually offered 8.. Mama had these Pyrex white mixing bowls with orange and khaki retro patterned strips.. There were 3, but the smallest one was my fave.. I knew that I could chuck in a sizable mound of caster sugar, slap some butter in and mix it up for 30secs and you had it - heaven in a bowl that you could hide behind your Enid Blyton book, on the stealth trip back to the sanctuary of my room.. I have eaten so much batter, dough, cake mix, pecans, choc bits, butter mix, caramel and cream in my life; consumed so much compound cooking chocolate that it’s quite possible I have supported, through college, the child in the Chinese factory who started brewing it so many years ago (“No Frills” was the birth of the Made in China food product) ...

Prior to the cooking, I’d been nicking money out of the oldies wallets for ages. $2 notes -currency of choice -and that would get me a Chrunchie, Crunch, 4 freddos and at least a bag of 50c lollies, as big as an orange! I’d ride into the local shop, spend in all, have a crunchie half hangin out of my gob, as I pedalled the way to school. Upon arrival, I’d usually down the rest of the stuff and plot out how to best avoid the upcoming PE class.. 1988 saw the end of my light-fingered ways as I watched my mum give away our expo tickets as punishment.. bitch…

It’s easy when you’re a teenager to eat what you like but even then, I knew I had to watch it and unfortunately, failed many times. Since I started paying attention at about 16, I’ve been up and down the sizes, ever grateful that I’m tall so nobody would notice too much. Bloody husbands and flatmates have interfered with my bingey ways and on many occasions, I’ve turned to stuffing wrappers of those stupidly- too- tiny- milky- ways- that- you -get- in- the- bulk- pack, down the side of the couch. I usually find them when I’m in search of the beeper or a pen and quickly throw them out but I’ve been caught a few times… Although, I’ve found in recent years that kids have another name now - scapegoats..

At restaurants, I feel the need to eat everything. I mean EVERYTHING.. I’m not above reaching over and helping stevo eat everything too. I have had to tip my glass into my plate to stop eating the last 1/2 kg of the most fantastic bloody chocolate mud cake eva!!

So I’ve got the last 4kgs of my 29kgs to lose - the scales were good to me this morning so I rewarded them with a clean, polish, and the promise to not plonk my fat ass back on there until tomorrow. Again, another day of being good but there were these bloody blue snakes left. I buy packets of snakes cause I only like the red ones. I do this so I wont binge the whole packet. BUT - if I HAVE to, I’ll eat the yellow ones. Then the orange..For it to get to the green and blue ones, I have to be desperate.. Turns out this morning I was very very very bloody desperate. I circled them for a good 17mins, back and forth into the kitchen, open shut open shut what can I have what can I HAVE DAMMIT!!?! And there they were, cozily nestled together just beckoning gently to me... And ever so gently, into the hatch and chew chew chew.. "Mmmm sweet,, chewy,, ewe lime flaovour sucks ass but it feels sooooo good to have a snake in my mouth" but then, with the self help power of ghosts of former fat shows, I remembered the greater cause and chewed some more, chew chew chew chew, suck suck SUCKING DAMMIT every last bit of flavour out of them and then..... QUICKLY OPENED THE BIN, OPENED MY MOUTH AND LET THEM FALL IN!!!!

It’s official - I am a BINGER and I have LOST MY FRICKEN MIND!!!!!! Have I really become one of those freaks who chews and spits?!? I googled it - there's no official name yet but I've come up with chewexpellsanervosia - if nothing else, that's a hell of a scrabble word! But really, is this what it's come to for me?? I mean - I GAVE UP GOOD QUALITY SNAKES ALBEIT SHIT LIME ONES!!!!

Why write this you ask?? Some stupid biatch with no job, goes nowhere with 2 older children said to me yesterday “Oh you’re looking so good. Oh you’re so lucky, it just falls of you. I’ve got to lose a few but it’s so hard and I just don’t have the time to exercise. It’s easy when you’re young..” And I know I’m ranting but EASY! EASY???

I mean by the power of envoking of Lleyton Hewitt - CUMMMMOOOONNNNN!???????!!!!!!!! CUMMMMMFARKENON!!!!!!!!!!!???????!!!!!!

She can get stuffed - I’m not talking to her again stupid bitch. And I'm also going to make sure I wear something extra fabuolous next time I know I"m going to see her - she can go home and suck down a packet of Pizza Shapes to self-comiserate....

And now I’m going to bed, exceptionally proud that of the 47 Anzac biscuits that I brewed up tonight, I only ate two… (and the crusts that I cut off Ella’s peanut butter sanga.) Seems I've kept Chewexpellsanervosia at bay for another day..

pft!....easy?.....Buggar her, I'll gift wrap the damn box of Shapes.....

Burgers and Multi-faceted..

So I’m having a reflective moment right now.. Upon hearing several of my mates utter “hey did you get an invite to the mini reunion  at blah blah blah (highschool cough ahem!)..” it got me a-wondering…

Now, it’s no secret that I was not the most popular item in a burger.. Some people are born to be the buns - mainly those sporty or seriously good-looking and therefore popular people..

The bun people, true to their role on the burger, were always at the top of everything - the most prominent, in the limelight and although a part of the collective burger, there was no burger without them - you had to have them and god they knew it. Alternatively, if they weren’t at the top of everything, they were just underneath you.. You’d think your time had come to be the leader or get the guy, and before you knew it, there they were, sliding in underneath you and stealing all your glory. A constant reminder that you better watch yourself cause they were the main show - they were THE burger..

And you move on to the the meat pattie people - the seriously brainy kids.

These people; you didn’t HAVE to have them but it made the place a lot nicer. They were respected, sometimes mocked or teased but mostly just accepted. The buns knew that they kinda needed the meat in order to -
a. have someone to be better looking than or
b. have someone they could go to for tutorial..
As it turned out, some of the meat people grew up and experienced many changes. Marinades and Sauces adorned them and many become amazing versions of their former, rarer self. It also helps that they went on to get lucrative jobs and could buy fries, lemonade and an ice cream cones at leisure…

Moving to the salad people - the rest of us.

The lettuce - Floaty, wavy creative people who come in all varieties and were just too cool for school. They were looked upon as being a bit “out-there” but somewhat funky - like mesculin.
The onions - Mean nasty bitches who would cheerfully make you cry. If there is any justice, hopefully most of those people grew up to be as round as onions..
The cheese - The relaxed, “everyone likes the cheese” calm, casual people who just hung around, looked good and fitted in with everyone..
The beetroot - Bold, naughty people who stained the school in various ways - graffiti, nikko tributes to former loves, ciggie butts. On the whole, they radiated - stay away unless you’re tuff..
WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY POSITION..

THE PICKLE…
I was and still may be a pickle. you either love or you hate em. A total pre-requisite or tossed out the window faster than you can say “bio-degradable wrapper.” Most of the population view the pickle as a weird little vegie, an inconvenience on an otherwise brilliant burger.. Others say it’s an acquired taste. Many questioned it’s merits but pickles are usually determined little buggars that fought for inclusion and did their best to leave a dent in the burger if forcibly removed… I have no doubt, me and a few select others, were pickles.. Some people LOVE pickles - reverie and spread the word about their fantastic qualities but have you noticed; they’re all a bit strange too??

So there is my role. An acquired taste worshipped by an eclectic few..

The pickle, all these years later, is yet to be recognised by the buns - actually I think there's been some study done by some loser PHD Meat Pattie, at the University of Idiot Thesises, which conclusively proved that it's pretty much NEVAH GOING TO HAPPEN.. Those buns can be basards for life apparently...

This pickle didn't care about the reunion snub. I glanced at the "gloat photos" -buns, some obviously VERY stale, lettuces that had wilted or had become way too close too nature with excessive body hair and "natural smells", the cheeses were aimless, not committed and out of work and although, the patties were still smart and knew lots of things about money and stuff,  those stock market freaks and intelligent professors of contitutional law blah blah blah sorry I dozed off! Nooo. These was no jealosy or longing at all with this pickle...

Cause let's face it? Have you seen my Gehrkin husband?? He can lay side by side with me on a burger any old day...