baby it's cold outside
My head has been all of a dither recently what with the boy issues, the coming home to the parents issues and spending my energy fighting the mild form of ‘I’m actually a bit lonely’ depression that always hits me at this time of year. I know I go through ups and downs throughout the year, but there is something about Christmas and all the enforced jollity that makes me think far too much about things.
Take this for example..
Last night my mother had her friends over to dress their Christmas cakes with a splash of coloured icing sugar, a sprinkle of silver balls and a heavy coating of gossip. What struck me about this group of women (all of which have children I went to playgroup, primary or secondary school with) was their inherent need to boast about the success of their individual child’s ability to catch that man (or woman) and bear grand children; a result that in these mum’s eyes achieved the ultimate A+ in life.
I wasn’t let off lightly. I could feel the crashing sense of disappointment from the other mums that, as I was there listening in, they couldn’t rubbish my lack of stable relationship and sprog bearing potential. But despite my protestations that I wasn’t in any rush to splice my troth and join coupledom I’ve still woken up this morning feeling the pressure of joining Match.com and picking the first hairy backed neanderthal I see in the hope that I too can have a ‘successful life’.
I’m not sure at what point all these women went from sleepless nights worrying about their errant daughter having a healthy and adult sex life (“Please be careful!”) to actively encouraging us to find the closest man to act as a sperm donor. Is it at the point when they give up trying to rid themselves of the grey hairs and the size 12 waist? Or is it when their friends start bringing the baby photos to their weekly witches coven coffee morning? I’m not sure myself when this magical switch happens, but I’m surrounded by it and its honestly sending me slightly insane.
Luckily my lovely papa hates babies and is happy to hide in the local pub with me where there is plenty of Christmas cheer instead. I’ll raise a glass to all you lovely new bloggy friends tonight.
Happy Christmas to one and all.
Mwah
Kx
P.S sorry about all the spelling mistakes you’ll see on your readers, i have a hangover and no MSWord to correct my spelling here…
A hangover, and yet you still craft this delicious phrase:
…dress their Christmas cakes with a splash of coloured icing sugar, a sprinkle of silver balls and a heavy coating of gossip.
You’re a delight. Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas to you too :)
Lets hope 2009 brings us all that our little hearts desire.
xx
Merry Christmas to you too!! Hope you have a great one!! xoxo
Merry Chrimbo. Give yourself a copy of Firefox for Christmas, it’s got a built-in spell checker. And you have a nice turn of phrase for a hungover person.
I’m just turning 25, and my Mom’s already giving me worried looks everytime she doesn’t see something sparkling on my ring
finger. I feel your pain.
Merry Christmas and a Happy Hangover to you!
Well said.
I know exactly what you mean. I just received an invisibility cloak for xmas care of a younger brother announcing child number 2.
The parentals have official given up hope I think.
Merry Christmas, my dear.
And just imagine their shame at their divorces later on….
Happy Christmas to all of you too, i hope you had a good one. Kx
[...] In the eyes of a parental type having a man by your side ensures that you are no the recipient of the looks, the sympathy, and the indignity of the single 30something. Being at home with my family, alone, single, is a type of torture reserved for those who have carried out the most dastardly of deeds (not buying a round, not liking football, not taking a joke), so whilst I certainly don’t define myself by having a man by my side; I must say this weekend’s visit home was rather easier on the shame factor than at Christmas. [...]