Forgettable…

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Do you ever feel forgettable. As in you meet someone and when you see them again unless you’re with your husband or your dog (yes the dog) they don’t remember who you are. Don’t worry this isn’t a woe is me post, more of an observation.

I’ve met numerous people at the yacht club where hubby sails and while walking, often with hubby and Jack the dog, but when I’ve then seen these people without hubby or dog they wouldn’t have a clue who I am.

It got me wondering if maybe I’m just that type of forgettable person? Some people have defining features like gorgeous red curly hair, or are extremely tall, but I’m just pretty average.

There was even people at our wedding (friend’s of John’s) that when I’ve seen them without John they haven’t had a clue who I was!

I understand in some circumstances a quick meet and greet when you’re busy may mean that you’re not entirely concentrating, but I’d like to think that when I meet people I will remember them.

I can often be quite bad with names, and try to remember to tell myself to do that thing where you say it back to them, as in nice to meet you Liz, but of course that doesn’t always happen. But while I sometimes suck with names I never forget a face. And if I can’t remember your name or where I’ve met you I’ll still smile at you!

How do you remember new people that you’ve met? Do you ever feel forgettable?

Is sarcasm dead?

I haven’t blogged for a while. Partly because as most of you will know life as a new mum is just a tad busy, and partly because I seem to have attracted some unwanted comments lately.

The strange thing is these comments are on posts that are more than a year or two old. I haven’t published any of them, which actually goes against how I believe you should deal with it. In the past I have published negative comments and then responded. But to be honest right about now I just feel like I couldn’t be bothered.

I couldn’t be bothered to respond to someone who thinks I should dump my husband because he ‘showed his true colours’ by initially saying no to having a dog. (All his concerns were quite valid actually, but don’t tell him I said that!!) And I couldn’t be bothered to respond to someone calling me an idiot and a jealous bitch over a post that was written in good fun and filled with sarcasm.

I understand that not everyone has the same sense of humour and may not appreciate sarcasm, but if you don’t like it then feel free to read something else. I’ve read often on other people’s blogs about why they blog. Most say for themselves, others say they like to know people out there are reading what they write. Effectively they’re comment whores! Oh look there’s that sarcasm again.

Blogging for me is theraputic. It’s a great way to vent. Sometimes people can relate and sometimes they don’t and that’s fine. But last time I checked your own personal blog is for writing words of your choosing.

I’m feeling a bit deflated at the moment about the whole blogasphere. Clearly I took an extra dose of sensitivity this morning, or maybe I’m just confusing it with lack of sleep!

I’m sure I’ll be back soon enough, sarcasm and all.

For Frock’s Sake

Something I say almost everyday...

Everyone likes to look nice. Even when just heading out to do the groceries you always feel better if you’ve put in a bit of effort to look ok. The problem is these days that my ‘looking ok’ consists of trackies, a t-shirt and, wait for it, a pair of thongs. Yep I fit right in at good old Marketown (the shopping centre in town). It would be safe to say that I’m more than entrenched in ‘Mummy Mode’. Mummy Mode consists of getting up and making sure the baby has had her bottle, breakfast, a clean nappy and a cute outfit on, and I get a shower, wet hair in a pony tail and a tracksuit. Any time I used to have perusing my wardrobe for something to wear is now spent washing up bottles and sterilising them along with pureeing and pureeing and some more pureeing.

I think that like most women, especially Mum’s there’s a gaping big hole in my wardrobe. No my crazy architect husband din’t design some weird wardrobe (although I wouldn’t put it past him), I feel that my range of clothes is lacking a middle ground. I have a gazillion, yes gazillion t-shirts, singlet tops, tracksuit pants, 3/4 cargo pants and more pairs of thongs than you can poke a stick at. I have gorgeous gorgeous cocktail dresses and about 20 maxi dresses. Now the maxi dresses used to be my go to outfit all the time, paired with a little cardi on the cooler days and I thought I was looking a oh k. But now. Well after 6 months of breastfeeding, the girls, puppies, twins, whatever you want to call them, how about boobs, just aren’t what they used to be. Short of walking around with my arms in the air to give them a nice lift, I can’t get away with not wearing a bra anymore. And unfortunately most of maxi’s aren’t bra friendly.

So back to the gaping hole. I feel I lack some casual sophistication in my ensembles, as in, I don’t have any of it. Granted I have some lovely tops that look great with jeans, but they don’t fit me anymore, not across the boobs and definitely not across the tummy. I am so tempted to wear a pair of spanks on a day to day basis even though my husband thinks that’s taking it to a whole other level of ridiculousness.

So on Saturday we went on a little shopping trip. My mum looked after Sophie (she loves any chance to get her all to herself) and about 2pm John and I hit the shops. I wanted a new pair of jeans, and a nice top to wear to my Nonna’s upcoming 80th birthday. The jeans were quite successful and I found a nice pair of Lee jeans that weren’t too low cut, I didn’t want to be that mum with her arse always hanging out, and they were a great colour. The girls in the shops were lovely. Delightful even. I didn’t feel uncomfortable and unfashionable like I usually do and of course I got the obligatory aaaaaawwwww’s when I told them I was a new mum and this was my first pair of non maternity jeans since Soph was born.

Next came tops. I could have cried when a size L shirt didn’t fit me in General Pants Co. I wouldn’t consider myself a big person. Maybe a 12, possibly sometimes a 14 at the moment with the extra boob baggage, but nope, no luck with the Large. We went to several other shops before I hit a wall. Thankfully not literally, although the rate we were going a face smack would have been more fun than trying to find a damn top. The fitted one’s made me look like I was about 5 months pregnant and the more flowing one’s made me look like I was about 7 months pregnant and trying to cover it up. I then became too tired and too cranky to care. “I’ll just wear my pyjama’s” I said to John. By that time he had had enough too!

You see the truth is as a new Mum I don’t know what to wear. Probably not much different to what I wore before I guess. I could go and replace my lovely tops with bigger sizes, but they’re only going to get puked on or have mashed broccoli thrown in their general direction. Plus I don’t think a silk Country Road top is all that appropriate for doing the groceries. I could wear plain tops and accessorise. But these days Sophie will put anything from the dog’s tail to the TV remote in her mouth, so the last thing I need to do is tease her with dangly necklace’s and earrings.

At least winter is only just around the corner and jeans, boots, a jacket and different colour scarves should get me through. Soph will have fun munching on the scarves. And as for the tracksuits; they’ll always be my non-fashionable best friend.

Where’s Trinny and Susannah when you need them…

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