Before I had children, I had a flat stomach. Well, almost. I never actually had a FLAT stomach, more like a kind of little bubble let's say. But I could suck it in really well. For ages. Until I had a beer, then I'd forget, and just flap about down there.
And I had shapely thighs. Because sausage shaped is a legitimate shape.
And a pert bottom. It could hold up a pencil. And probably the notebook to go with it. Somewhere there was a black woman who wanted her booty back.
And in short, I had dancers legs - which is a not so subtle way of saying my calf muscles could probably crack walnuts.
I went to the gym, I worked out, I ran, I cycled and I played softball. So I was always fit. And yet... my body never managed to make it to a revered status in my mind. I never loved it.
Then I hit 40...
It snowed again last night, and turned our fetid pavement slushies back into the winter wonderland that I love so much. The grimy backyard - still littered with tools and broken pots - was again smooth and pristine, the guts of the previous snowman spread about now turning into moutains for snow elves.The kids were also delighted, and the fact that school was open as usual was only a slight disappointment to them. The renewed snow meant that they'd probably be able to play outside. The previous week's snow had quickly turned to ice which rendered the playground too dangerous...
I've just staggered back in from the gym, from a "Body Attack" class which was pretty much the first fitness orientated thing I've done since the gallbladder left the building.It wasn't a pretty sight to be honest. I got a stitch within about 8 minutes of Gloria Gaynor shrieking out how she was going to survive, and I pretty much gave up any belief of my own survival.But I did manage to make it to the end, by which point I resembled a puppet on a string with a very lazy puppeteer. Or a thunderbird with a twitch.I am slightly...
I like tattoos. I can't make that statement without clarifying that I don't really fancy guys covered from head to foot with tattoos. I certainly don't like the idea of people tattooing their head and face. But I like tattoos. I like decoration. I don't see why the human body can't be used as a canvas for something beautiful. There are a lot of reasons why people get tattoos, and many of them are completely spurious. I don't think any tattoo has deep and powerful meaning, or that you need to get a tattoo in order to tell yourself...
I think the thing that sticks in my mind most about the operation was the crazy politcal correctness moment that popped up before I went into theatre. The nurse said to me "When you come back from theatre, it may be necessary for us to put the side rails up on the bed. Do you give your permission for that to be done?". I reply "What?" "It's just to ensure that we don't place restrictions on you without your permission. Some people don't wish to be restrained." I look at the two half rails on either side of my...
