Memories

Writing my last post about wedding underwear strangely brought back lots of memories for me. I remember visiting my friends house when I was 7 or 8. In the kitchen there was a Playboy calender and the models wore the lacy gear I previously described. I remember finding it distasteful, tacky and really quite naff. My Mum had lots of feminist books in the house so perhaps some of her ideas rubbed off onto me. I was similarly intrigued at my Dad's work where there were calenders of nude women in the main office. It seems crazy that this went on in a professional area, one where business meetings went on; times have certainly changed. I'm surprised Page 3 has survived Britain's (much fought for) society of equal rights. Perhaps the current affairs 'voice' they give the models (what does Leilani think of asylum seekers? what does Chelsi think about the rate of inflation, etc, etc) justifies the nudity. After all, if they are just meat why bother asking for an opinion?

I remember this friend also had a globe, a drinks cabinet and her parents had a water bed. All of which fascinated me. In hindsight, it was all so 1980s. I wonder if today they still have nude women on their kitchen walls? Or maybe it will be a buff fireman's calender. Equality opened up the door for all horrors to escape......

Pants

I went searching for my wedding underwear today. I found the whole experience exhausting. Driving into town, finding my way into and around St Enoch's car park, then negotiating the shops. I always find shopping hard on my own. Since I first became ill, I find myself sensitive to the bright lights, noisy music and the crowds; it makes shopping very tiring. I had a bra fitting last week at Frasers and was shocked at my size - any woman reading this - get yourself measured -Marks and Spencers were way off with my fitting last year. So I traipsed the department stores and eventually settled for a bra I tried on last week. Typical. But at least I'd had a look around and I was seriously unimpressed. I love my underwear but it took a while to find as the choice available is awful. If you are a bride the chances of you looking like a reject from a 1980s Whitesnake video are high. Bridal lingerie is all high-waisted thongs, suspender belts and lace everywhere. See Madonna photo for an example of the frills available. Perhaps lingerie designers are inspired by Madonna's Like a Virgin look, how apt for a bride.....

I was glad to get in the car and drive home. The car park at St Enochs is like the entry to the bowels of hell - bad lighting and dark corners, and you drive round and round in the flickering neon until you find a space. I find this really hard because my car has no power steering and my arms ache. So driving out was tiring and creepy. I am grateful that I can get out to the shops, but I long for the day when I can leave them satisfied and with an aching purse, not an aching body.

Lucky

Yes, you've guessed it, the photo is of a bull in a china shop. What have I done now you ask? I was browsing in Au Naturale - home store extraordinaire, and picked up a cake stand as their quaint scalloped edges always attract me. Though I clearly don't need one. It was caught on the others and I managed to smash two. Next to me, two older women stared open mouthed in sympathy and called over a sales assistant. I apologised and he completely blanked me. Being the youngest in my family I cannot stand being ignored, so I wandered off without the slightest bit of guilt. I am not beating myself up over an accident.

Though I'm clumsy I make a point of not telling myself I'm unlucky or 'bad things happen to me'. There is no such thing as lucky or unlucky - life happens, and sometimes it is not good. Ok, today's experience is petty, but over the last year I've had to deal with some awful situations. It is how you deal with them that determines the outcome. My mother brought me up with the notion that 'something good comes out of something bad'. And if you think back on every bad experience in your life, it may take time, but eventually you will be able to find something positive that arose from the situation. Otherwise, what's the point?

Invasion of the Weevils

Warning: don't read this whilst eating.

So yesterday I went into my hall cupboard and found we have been invaded by thousands of flour weevils. It was rather strange to see what I thought were bits of dirt slowly moving. They had grown from bird seed I had stored in the cupboard and they rather rapidly spread through the area. I spent around four hours yesterday clearing out the cupboard. This involved emptying boxes, shaking out paper work, hoovering, spraying bleach (die weevils die was my mantra) and spraying insect repellent. The neighbours must of thought I'd gone crazy as I stood on the porch shaking cheque books, letters and passport photos (so much stuff in that cupboard). My cupboard is now streamlined - that basically means I binned anything of no use, and is now very clean.

I was horrified this morning to find some more on one shelf, but I have commenced attack and they are now gone. Environmental health at the council wants nothing to do with weevils. Are mice more fun? But a local pest control company will spray the area for £40. Not bad if they haven't completely gone by the weekend. Afterall, I have started a war and I am determined to win. Seeing as I'm clumsy I'd better watch out for the pest control equivalent of friendly fire - eg spraying myself in the face with RAID pest spray. I'm rather like George Bush but with more accurate sources of intelligence. And I'm better looking.

It's a cracker.

I have now earned the nickname of Frank Spencer for my continuing calamities. It is well known that I am clumsy but things have gone too far! During Christmas Lee and I went to his sister's for a lovely meal. She put out crackers for everyone and not being one to miss out on a party hat and a plastic toy I was keen to tear into one. Lee and I shared a cracker but it didn't snap. So Lee decided to snap the exposed cracker - and it went in my eyes. Doh. At the time I made a fuss - it stung - but nobody really bothered, thinking I was just being awkward. Afterall, the gravy was being passed round and nobody wants to miss that at a family meal.

Late that night my eye was streaming, and didn't stop the next day, so the next evening I ended up in A&E, embarrassed and sore. I thought the young doctor would find it hilarious that I'd been hurt by a cracker but he was non-plussed. Apparently party poppers are worse for causing injury. I had strange orange drops put into my eye to allow the doctor to inspect it further. He asked if I had any other health problems. I told him I have ME. He asked how it effected me. I gave a brief description, assuming he was just interested in my particular case. Shockingly, he told me that doctors aren't taught about ME at medical school. That is why he wanted more information. Apparently, it is briefly mentioned in passing as an illness that is diagnosed when all other illnesses are discounted. It is an umbrella term for other conditions. He was not being rude - just sharing his limited knowledge of ME. I was (perhaps naively) surprised at the lack of information given to junior doctors about an illness that effects thousands of people in the UK.

It turns out I had a small scratch on my cornea and was given antibiotic eye cream. (Which I could taste within five minutes of applying -obviously going down the back of my throat from my eye! Yeuch!) So readers beware of flying debris from crackers and party poppers.

Incidentally, the joke and the gift inside the cracker were both shite. The party hat was, however, rather dapper.

Catherine needs.....

Ok, so now I'm copying Jo, Claire and Elaine who have posted this idea in their blogs. It is some harmless fun. Go to google and type in 'your name needs' and see what comes up. A good start to a New Year methinks......
1. Catherine needs another Slushpile Condo!
2. Catherine needs to put her everyday chair in the car when she drives, she still prefers a rigid chair to a folding chair.
3. Catherine needs katieplayer bookmarking information.
4. An Editor’s Report is what Catherine needs.
5. Catherine needs to take her efforts in the gym back to 75% of her max so that she will be more in control and won't be using it as a mechanism to be hard on.

And, as my counsellor says, only do what you want or need to do, and stay away from the shoulds. Perhaps number four is the best option?

The bitch is back.

I hope you all enjoyed the festive season. I had a great time. Very relaxing and indulgent. I have taken domesticity to my highest level yet. Look, see my photo of oranges dotted with cloves, cinnamon and bay leaves. These sat in the hallway looking pretty until we returned from two days in Fife to green dusty oranges. Mmm.

It has been a stressful week; Lee's grandad has been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. It is hard to see him ill and a shadow of who he once was. I love the fact he still manages a cheeky joke and a wink. Long may that last. How unfair life is when a man has to lose his dignity like this. At the weekend I finally declared myself an atheist. But that's a discussion for another blog. Times like this always make you reflect on your own life. I have dramatically changed my New Year's resolutions from 'losing weight and getting fit' (so stupid when you have ME) to realistic goals.

So what are your New Year's resolutions? I'd love to hear them - and be honest.

Here are mine, they may seem harsh, but I'm feeling freer for following them already -

1. To be selfish. In a good way. Put myself first and stop people pleasing. Compromise is a two-way process.
2. To surround myself with people who actually care. Life is too short to be undermined by disapprovers.
3. Enjoy who I am. Stop feeling guilty and worrying about what others think.
4. The bitch is back. No shoulder pads are needed for my assertiveness.