Every time I find myself being smug about any topic at all it inevitably leads to a lesson in humility. I am generally not a smug person but there is within me that element of self appreciation which occasionally borders on self satisfaction. An example. When I was eleven I remember thinking myself slightly more attractive than some of my peers simply because they wore glasses and I did not. Two months later came the onset of shortsightedness. At age thirteen I admired myself for being rather buxom and curvaceous but not fat. Within the year puberty wreaked its full wrath upon my body and my weight gain was astronomical (or seemed that way). I could continue. Suffice to say I often feel like Fate is truly mocking me.
Perhaps it isn't that I'm being toyed with by a vast omnipotent presence, maybe it's just that to save you from yourself, life needs to intercede. The phrase "I'm going to wipe that smile off your face" maybe having been coined by God Himself. (Incidentally isn't that one of the most sadistic phrases that your parents used to say? Proving that ruining your childhood was no accident!)
What has raised this topic today? Well a tad of smugness of course. For the last few weeks various friends, all of whom have teenagers, have been bombarding me with complaints of how soul destroying it is to have pubescent boys at home who just take take take and appreciate zilch. Idle, lazy, dishonest, moody boys who contribute nothing but expect constant supplies of cash from their Mum in return. In this wonderfully misguided world they think that simply refraining from car jacking, burglary or knife crime means they deserve some kind of reward. Anyhow was just congratulating myself on having such reasonable kids who help around the house, treat me with a general level of respect and even bought me an Ipod Shuffle, when my latest mobile phone bill arrived.
And then I wanted to kill them.
I'm saying them, but it's only son number two who need fear. Darn child has subscribed MY number to some premium rate EGAMER site which has been generating texts to my phone all month at a charge of £2.00 each. Twenty nine messages later and I am practically bankrupt. Of course I did notice them coming in but he had assured me they were a freebie, and I being incredibly dull didn't think any more of it. Worst part is I know this is merely a drop in the ocean compared to the tsunami heading my way. A monetary tidal wave of driving lessons, smashed up cars, unpaid bills, house deposits and pregnant girlfriends. Oh joy.
On a brighter note, am beginning to feel excitement set in as Charlotte and I are off to Disneyland Paris this week. The trip was a gift to her for Christmas with the fact that I have to chaperone her being an added bonus. However I must confess to some rather poor parenting and admit that ever since the evening of December 25th I have been using it as pure leverage. Charlotte, much like her mother, has a split persona. She appears to most to be the kindest, sweetest, politest creature ever to walk the planet. In reality she is a Gremlin. Just as they could not tolerate food after a certain time in the evening without mutating in to absolute monsters, she cannot tolerate anything less than about seventeen hours sleep. Which in reality cannot happen. Some mornings I am genuinely terrified to enter her bedroom for fear of what, or who I will find. Quotes from Charlotte within the last six weeks "why does everyone hate me?" because we asked her to get out of bed at 8am; "why does everyone want me to die?" because we asked her to get out of bed at 8am"; her most melodramatic: "Jesus please come and take me now" because we asked her to get out of bed at 8am (that was genuine supplication not blasphemy by the way); and probably the most cutting of all, when Chris tried to get her out of bed before 8am "I wish mum would divorce you....she could do so much better". This is a six year old speaking (admittedly a six year old who watches excessive repeats of Tracey Beaker) The word Exorcist springs to mind.
As for exercise and diet today, well I did go for a very long walk (around the entire Boundary Mills store at least twice), lifted a few kilos (comprising of several dresses, suits and bra's I carried to the changing room) and lost several pounds (at the till). So all in all I did pretty well.
Tomorrow I will be much better, I promise.
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