There is a theme running through our house at the moment and if it is the colour purple then it is IN. Both daughter and I love the the colour purple , He-man preferring bright orange or green. The love of purple is not just restricted to clothes - see recent Howge scarf, handbag, necklace, T shirt, ipod nano, eye shadow, nail varnish etc. It also extends to food. Whilst playing a daft pass-the-time-away game over dinner with The Wrinklies recently I declared that I love aubergines just on colour alone nevermind the shape. This prompted a rant from G-man ( grandad as renamed by He-man ) about how he can't stand the colour purple. This resulted in many a furtive glance between she-ra & I as his Christmas present was a beautiful dark purple shirt from Jaeger. Don't worry, I said to her later that night, he will declare that it is not purple but another colour altogether as the label will sway him. You guessed it on Christmas morn as he unwrapped his very dark purple shirt he invented a new colour for the Dulux paint chart. I lurve my royal dark indigo shirt, he cried. To which we howled with laughter. However still fuelled by a talk of purple the previous night he went onto name the only colour purple he truly liked for which I cannot wait for Dulux to put on their paint charts. " Bell end purple."
The scariest thing after finally finding someone else attractive enough to want do something about it in a lewd, rude and disgustingly sweaty way is that they will see you naked. This has had me in a state. Of a curvy build and more toned than ever in my life due to all the running to get rid of the stress of being married to a complete bastard-who-lived-a-secret-life; as well as a more recent outlet for pent up sexual energy I am the lucky beneficiary of being currently slim with curves. So let's say I am not having hang ups about the scale of the bod. However ... Let's start from the neck and work down... The boobs are no longer pointing northwards. In fact if I could have a peg to keep them looking pert that would be great. They don't need to be bigger just pert. This is further compounded by the fact that She-ra's nickname is Boobzilla - need I say more? Bras are great for giving you the illusion of the most fantastic pair when in fact you have scooped them up, hoisted them in and got them on a tight rein. Illusion is good, reality less so. Skin is next. My skin feels papery. Not bouncy. Not youthful. But old woman papery. Clearly this could improve if I swapped my 2 litres of red wine/fresh coffee combo a day for 2 litres of water but then my children would probably be taken away by social services. So on to -Stretch marks... Those little snail trails that run across your tummy. I did carry 2 children, one of which was nearly 9lb, for chrissake! However I am not going to complain here as I am actually blessed with stretchy skin (which having yoyo'd in weight over the years is more than fortunate ) so having only 4 small ones that are practically unnoticeable are OK by me. Anyway heading south we are now in the regions of the lady garden and it here that my worries have set seed the most. I can best sum this up by relating a recent shopping trip to a posh kitchenware shop with my sister. Whilst perusing the shelves for suitable brother-in-law Christmas presents my eyes fell upon a special oven glove/pan holder. It was pink, made from silicone and fitted like an oven glove over your fingers only having a slight wobbly clammy feel to it. Before I knew I was stood in posh kitchenware shop with said oven glove dangling between my legs to give an accurate ( if not considerably scaled up ) illustration of how I feel about my lady bits. Just hope OTE ( Old Twinkly Eyes ) doesn't notice the pan scrub located above it.
I would not recommend that any one follows what I do. I certainly would not want to be held accountable. Newly divorced, having been married for over 20 years, it has been a long time since I have played the courtship game. It;s scary. So how do you get that person to go for coffee etc. Ask - it worked for me. Then hopefully that is a reciprocated in the form of a drink? That worked too. There should be no problem with asking after all if you want something you should ask for it. Those first few conversations are hard though. What do you talk about? Finding common ground helps but nothing too controversial. Clearly the advent of email and texts make things a bit easier and flirting great fun compared to the technology available in my youth, not quite tin can and wire but not far off. All the while establishing whether there is a frisson of passion. In this case - yes.
But how do you read the signs? I would have better luck with tea leaves as I am never aware when someone is hitting on me. How do you know that the other person is interested? Are their pupils dilated? one friend asked - As I couldn't' even maintain eye contact for very long I couldn't establish that until 4th rendezvous. It was here that I finally managed to be myself and I found that a good sense of humour and good line of put downs can be a good aphrodisiac. Having established that there is definitely attraction you need to get a dinner or drinks date sorted. The flow of alcohol loosens up the old inhibitions and before you know it you are talking away. " Don't worry " another friend said " you'll find plenty to talk about ." However don't talk about the subjects I did. Sex, lack of, gagging for it, finding the other person very attractive and referring to your self as Miss Moist ( see sense of humour ) in text messages unless of course you intend to do something about it. With all this direct inference to sex you would expect that once alone with a bedroom not far away ( actually who cares about the bedroom a closed door will do ) that passion would ensue at rate of knots. It was here that I was introduced to the St Petersburg Technique. Not something I had come across before and not a bizarre sexual position although I am sure that I could conjure one up. With glass of wine in hand, heart beating with anticipation it was with wonderment that I found myself watching a tourist information film on the wonders of St Petersburg. Half expecting a Russian plumber to come knocking at the winter palace door only to find the attendants half naked ready willing and able I instead found myself watching a virtual tour of the city in the summer. Clearly the dampening of ardour was moderate and I have congratulated OTE on his unusual technique wondering if there is a second installment of series.
It is that time of year again which kicks starts me into feeling christmassy - the old wreath making. This has been a tradition for over 14 years now and it is the first time that we have had nearly all the ladies at the table, busy slurping mulled wine, nibbling on the occasional mince pie and fashioning something for their front door, or not as the case may be. Even She-ra joined in - a first. The blokes may scoff at our attempts amd class us W.I rejects but we love it. If we weren't making wreaths it would be something else. I am always amazed at how we can all talk at exactly the same time all over each other yet still manage to hold a conversation or three. Although this year I did get undivided attention when I told them of my latest news of going on my first date.There is nothing like the smell of fresh blood in the group to get them to stop in their tracks. All this is with a background of Christmas tracks paying merrily away in the background. The wreaths over the years have been all sorts of wonders. My personal favourite being the silver wreath with silver chocolate coins in huge chunky bunches adorning it. Running a close second was the sprout tree complete with shimmer painted onto individual sprouts. This year my effort has been very tame. My excuse? Just moved, lost all my gear and had no time. I dived out of the car got some trailing ivy and had bought a very long silver organza ribbon. Simple but chic. Anyway we have a gallery today to choose from. Christmas spirit is here even if it is in mulled wine form.
He-mans' hormones seem to be more settled at the moment although I do wish he would stop drawing huge detailed drawings of willies on his school work/gcse exam papers. It really is embarrassing to get yet another phallus alert phone call from a teacher. She-ra is definitely entering full on teenage hormone country and much flouncing, grunting, tears for no reason, squeaky voices, a lot of eye liner and mascara, plus drooling over New Moon actors ( OK so I did too ) but is also joining me in panting over George Clooney, Brad Pitt and any other hot young thing on our screens.
My hormones are all over the place. Ol' Twinkly Eyes emailed and so far we have managed a long lunch and now have a something almost resembling a date after work. I say "almost a date" as he is playing it very cool, but still managed to clock up 4 emails today. I cannot remember ever being this excited. I have had to go for a very hard run to get rid of all the energy and dog was positively exhausted when we came back. Having divulged my current state of mind to the kids, well I had to I was acting like even more of a crazy woman, I have got their blessing, at least for a short while. No doubt He-man thinks my mind will be less focused on him and he can even more free rein - think again tiger. She-ra looks genuinely pleased. I however am a mixture of complete excitement and omg what do I say,do, wear, will I have time for a bikini wax beforehand etc. My ability to speak disappears when with him , which is very unlike me and I struggle to look him in the eye just in case he sees crazy woman plus the extreme lustful thoughts written across my forehead. I really do need to get a grip otherwise it will be over before it has begun as my scary jabber frightens him off ( if I manage to speak that is ). I'm sure Ann Bancroft didn't have this problem when going for Dustin. Or maybe I need to switch role models.