Mrs Bumble

 

Tonight I'm cooking pasta. Yes, you read that right. I'm going to eat carbs and not think about the consequences. It's nearly Christmas, you see. Last night I munched down huge amounts of cheddar accompanied with at least six cream crackers and washed down with hot Ribena (consumed standing up by the kitchen counter, still wearing my coat). What is it about this time of year that makes me behave like a pig? And it's not just about eating junk per se but a significant lowering of my own personal standard and a total change in outlook. My usual rule is few white carbs or sugar and no processed food. Somehow, I've managed to have all three in the past twenty four hours.

Milky way? Maltesers? No problem. Marks and Sparks All Butter Twists? Yum yum. Mince pies? Can't get enough. These are some of the things that I have eaten in the last week that would never usually pass my lips. I mean I don't even like Milky Ways so what the hell am I doing?

I don't want to sound anal here but for the last few months I've been trying really hard to not eat crap and I know that not eating bread or wheat of any kind has made helped me lose quite a bit of weight. It seems a shame that I'm going to undo all my good work over the festive season and I'm not even going to try and stop myself. I'm sure the inside of my stomach currently looks like the tube on 'Supersize vs Superskinny' that the fat person's food is dropped down, when it forms that yucky pile at the bottom. I've probably consumed a similar amount of calories recently. The only difference is that I don't have to stand shivering in my underwear whilst being bollocked by Dr Christian. Actually, maybe that would be a good deterrent? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be so happy to stuff myself if I knew that I would have to face that in the New Year and then have it broadcast on national TV.

But hey, it's Christmas. It's only a couple of weeks, right? I say that every year until it's time to try stuff on during the January sales and realise that I shouldn't have eaten that fourth mini pork pie the day before. That's definitely not fun. Yuck... even the thought of seeing my body in that state fills me with dread and there still a couple of weeks of hardcore gorging to go. The thing is, all that lovely snuggly knitwear that we tend to wear over the festive period camouflages all the body hang ups that come to be so glaringly obvious to us in the spring (or in the changing room of Topshop on Boxing Day). I also love the fact that one can wear a party dress and tights in the winter – they cover up cellulite quite nicely. Last night I went out in a sparkly black dress, heels and thick tights (you know, the elasticated Shape 'n Tone kind that finish just under your boobs). They held my thighs in a treat....genius.

At this time of the year, I always feel at my least attractive. On Christmas Day, I feel like Mr Bumble in 'Oliver!' – you know, the fat guy in the workhouse who says 'Moooore?' At the beginning of the film, we see him sitting at a table groaning with meat and cheese and then stuffing it greedily into his mouth. That's me at Christmas – gluttonous and sweaty. I did try to combat this one year with a session of festive yoga. However, I'd forgotten that I'd already had an Amaretto or two and it wasn't a success. Lets just say that the Downward Facing Dog made me feel incredibly nauseous. My yoga mat still smells like regurgitated sage and onion stuffing.

This slipping of standards doesn't just apply to food. It also applies to social etiquette, drinking and general work ethic. It's a big break from the rules that we impose on ourselves for the rest of the year. At no other time of the year could I watch three films back to back whilst shovelling Bombay Mix into my mouth and not feel guilty. I just don't usually have time to lie on the sofa and do nothing. It's not the question of the calories I'm consuming, its more that I'm allowing myself to wallow there, with greasy hair, totally enjoying 'The Sound of Music' in my pyjamas guilt free.

Nor do I consider it acceptable at any other time of the year to flirt with my little brother's friends. Not cool. I'm pretty sure that that will be going on again this year. Never mind that they're all at least five years younger than me, flirting with boys who were born half way through the eighties is fiiiine at this time of year. Expected almost. It's the equivalent of eating the last coffee creme out of the box of Quality St. You wouldn't normally do it and its generally considered not quite right but as it's Christmas, its acceptable. (I could insert a pun here about putting something mindlessly in my mouth but I won't because that would be disgusting).

This type of inappropriately flirty behaviour usually occurs on the night you find yourself drunk, stumbling down the street in your sparkly dress and Shape n' Tone tights like someone from one of those police programmes about arrests in Britain's town centres. To be fair, its been a good few years since I've behaved like that (Two). But the same recklessness is there, that same 'What the hell, it's the party season' attitude that makes us all act crazily at this time of year.

Recently, my productivity at work has dropped dramatically. I have been given, in the last week or so, to spending periods of time staring vacantly ahead of me when I could be getting on with marking or other stuff that I will now have to do in the New Year. I just can't make myself do it. Maybe it's because my brain has been fried from an overload of mince pies and other seasonal delicacies. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I've just had too much mulled wine. Maybe its a combo of all three.

At the end of the day, I think one has to surrender to the festive spirit, whatever the consequences. Better to be flabby and hungover than end up looking like an Old Scrooge. So grab that Bombay Mix and lie yourself down on the sofa. Eat cheese til your heart's content. With Christmas cake. Just don't moan come January.

My Significant Other(s)

I've decided that I'm not writing about men any more. I've truly had enough of how rubbish they are. This decision has stemmed from a painful conversation with Hot FB Guy on Monday night which ended with me finally finding my self-respect and deleting him off my friend list. I have decided that once and for all I need to get him out of my system. I need a hetox. (Sorry, couldn't resist!)

Well, what to write about then? People have commented on the fact that I never write about work. That's because I don't have anything to say about it. It's a job. I don't consider it interesting enough to blog about....

So if I'm not writing about men or work what else is there?

Love. Empathy. Having fun.

Friendship. Now there's a worthy topic.

On Sunday, which was my 31^st birthday, I truly realised how important my friends are to me. My friend J had arranged a lunch for me that day and I spent the afternoon with four of my closest friends, eating, drinking and laughing. We laughed so much.... and I returned home with that warm glow that you only get after spending time with your favourite girls.

I arrived into school on Monday to find my pigeon hole stuffed with beautifully wrapped gifts and cute cards with loads of love us and kisses on. How lucky I am. How lucky I am that my friends think so much of me. Friendship, I'm sure, is an essential ingredient for a long and happy life. In fact, I'm certain it's no coincidence that the periods when I have seen less of my friends (for example the three years I was married for) have been the most depressing of my life. At the moment, I tend to see my friends every weekend. They are the essential ingredient in my generally hectic life.

There's definitely a code for correct friend behaviour. I believe that being a good friend is a very serious responsibility. Being understanding and supportive is really important. I fully accept that a friend of mine might make tentative plans with her new boyfriend and that I am her plan B if it falls through. Not a problem. I've blown off a friend before because I had a hot date. (I don't mean on the day, it was a week beforehand, to do it less than a few days before and leaving her in the lurch at the last minute would have been unacceptable and very bad form) My friend was totally understanding about that. She understood that she would probably have done the same thing and made different plans accordingly. We rescheduled for the week after. Knowing your friends and their quirks is what makes for a good relationship. You need to accept them and love them in the same way that you accept and love a partner. You should admire and respect them as you do a partner. There also has to be chemistry. You have to spark off each other and make each other laugh.

However, the same kind of problems that can ruin a relationship can occasionally crop up in a friendship as well. Inattentiveness, being inconsiderate or being lazy can split up a friendship. Lack of effort is, for me, a deal breaker. One ex-friend of mine moved to America and then declined to make contact with me except for a round robin that told everyone how amazing she was. Delete. Same for the friend who didn't come to my wedding because she was helping her boyfriend move house. Deleted her soon after. Sometimes we do put up with shoddy behaviour from our friends. We're used to being shafted by blokes (in the metaphorical sense) but find it hard to accept that women are capable of it as well. On the few occasions that I've been let down by a female friend (and there really hasn't been many)I have been so much more upset than after being let down by a bloke. I've come to realise that making an effort with those people who are worth it and keeping in touch with your true friends is absolutely essential.

I have so many good friends. Take my friend F. She has such a good sense of humour that she keeps me in constant hysterics. She can have an in depth conversation about poo, orgasms or whatever without flinching. She gives good talk. I've survived two months in Cuba and one horrendous bout of food poisoning with her. Try spending a week cooped up in a hotel room, vomiting at regular intervals with only one other person and VH1 for company (I'm sure we watched 'TLC Behind the Music' at least 50 times – I still can't hear 'Waterfalls' without wanting to chew my own arm off) When you've seen someone use the bidet and toilet simultaneously whilst groaning in agony I think it's safe to say that there can no longer be any secrets between you. If you still want to hang out with that person once you're better, then it's true (friend) love. Like F and I.

F also buys fab presents. She thinks so hard about what I would like or what I need. That's the mark of a true friend. For her part, she told me last time I saw her that she has has divided her friends into two categories – the 'safe' friends and the friends that she knows she will get into trouble with. I, I am pleased to say, fall into the latter category. I really think that's the biggest compliment anyone has ever paid me.

Friendship can create such joy. I can vividly remember standing on a beach on a balmy night in Turkey, ankle deep in the warm water with my friend J. I remember hugging her so hard and thinking this was the most perfect moment. J and I being on holiday together (and the prospect of a whole week filled with all you can eat and drink) filled me with supreme happiness. J is also great in that I treat her house like my house. She lives in town and so when we go on a night out, it's a given that I'll be staying there. I'm as comfy in her bed as I am in my own, happy to be snuggled up next to her.

My friend N took me in when I called her crying after my ex-husband had thrown me out. I had a car full of stuff and literally nowhere to go. She picked me up off her doorstep, plied me with wine and told me how stupid he was and how he didn't deserve me. I actually ended up having a kind of mini holiday at her house. She turned a hideous period in my life into something bearable. My friend M came straight round when she heard what had happened and gave me the longest hug. Without them, I would have been lost.

I believe that it's significant that my longest ever relationship only lasted five years, but my longest friendship started when I was a toddler and is still going strong. I also have two close friends who were in my class at secondary school. They know all my deepest, darkest secrets and we have a shared history. They knew me when I had NHS style glasses and bad acne. We supported each other through adolescence and we survived five years of school together. I can click back into conversation with them and we can chat as if six weeks or six months or whatever haven't gone by since we last spoke.

So, at the risk of sounding cheesy, pick up your phone and call a friend – someone who you love but maybe haven't spoken to for a while for whatever reason. Don't let your friendship slip away. Put some effort in. Because one day you will need her more than anything. And she'll be there.

14, 599 Words

 

Since starting this blog, I have written 14,599 words. And I still haven't found a man to go out with. It will be interesting to see how many words I write before someone who isn't an emotionally unavailable screw up, an ex from ten years ago or someone who is just normal makes an appearance in my life. I have loads of men hovering around – Used to be Toxic Ex calls every few days (and calls me 'baby' – not sure how I feel about that) and I do usually have some interest from blokes when I go out of an evening. But nothing seems to be happening. If my life was a film, these men would have cameo roles. I'd like a leading man. Maybe for just a few weeks. Come to think of it, if my life was a film, it would be a lot more interesting. And I'd have better hair. And a bigger, loft style apartment in New York. Obviously Sandra Bullock would play me....

Last weekend at my cousin's friend's party, I got chatting to a lovely man but five minutes into the conversation, it became obvious that we had absolutely nothing in common. He seemed to be a nice guy, but I might as well have been talking in Swahili – by the bewildered expression on his face I deduced that he had no idea what I was talking about (I should never have started on about experimental theatre....always dangerous after a few cocktails....). Anyway, as I got up to leave, he said 'Well, I really like you and I would take your number but there's no point. You and me, we'd never work in the real world.' I nodded regretfully, knowing that he was right. He was really cute though....

It's so hard to find someone who you have stuff in common with. I've got a feeling that its going to take me at least 50,000 words. I've realised that I need someone creative, not necessarily in a creative job but someone who approaches life in a creative manner and has a weird off the wall sense of humour. Truly creative men are quite hard to find. That's why my relationship with Used to be Toxic Ex lasted so long – he was totally bonkers and dodgy in a creative way. I've been out with so many guys who were just dull as. To be fair, some of them probably thought that about me or more likely just didn't get what I was talking about at all, like the guy I met last weekend.

To be honest, I think the reason that I'm going through a bit of a dry spell is down to Hot FB guy. I still like him but he is, as ever, elusive. If he is interested, it's going to take him the equivalent of War and Peace to actually make a move. (460,000 words if you're interested, in the Russian version) I've got a long wait ahead. But it's been three months godammit!

But we really get on. We have banter...... proper laugh out loud funny conversations. I love spending time with him. As I said above, it's rare that I meet a guy who I find really interesting. He makes me laugh. I get him. And I fancy him so much that just looking at him gives me butterflies. I know I really like someone when I start to feel very insecure. It means I really want them to like me back. I feel like that now.

I've worked really hard to get over him over the last couple of weeks. Work has been crazy and I haven't had time to think, which has helped. I had even started wearing my glasses to school (!!!) so confident was I that nothing would ever happen between us and so it wasn't worth me making an effort. I'd toughened up and got on with things, resigning myself to the fact that it was never going to happen. Then he appeared in my room on Friday afternoon and announced that he is moving temporarily to my area and we should maybe get together sometime. Since then, I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. I know its ridiculous but I can't help it. Next I'll be exhibiting scary psycho type behaviour - boiling his bunny, putting prawns in his curtain rods and stalking him home wearing a blonde wig and sunglasses (proper real life stalking, not the cyber variety, I do that already). Needless to say, since Friday I've started wearing my lenses again and am back to hiding in my office, touching up my make up in case he happen to swing by my room. I've found that applying gloopy lip gloss and marking GCSE coursework are not two tasks that should ever be performed simultaneously.

If I was my best friend, I'd give myself a bloody good talking to. I know that I'm behaving like a love sick teenager but I can't stop. It's like I've been possessed by an all powerful, overwhelming, weird emotion that makes me behave like a crazy woman. It makes me want to break all The Rules. In fact, my flatmate told me to shut the f*** up last night because I've been talking about Hot FB Guy all weekend. I don't blame him.

But hang on.......I'm a thirty year old woman living in the twenty first century, not a Victorian spinster waiting for Mr Right to appear and ask for her hand in marriage. I hold down a demanding job and make my own life choices. I do The Rules and have an interesting, mysterious, chequered past. I've been out with lots of different guys, been married and divorced and come out of every failed relationship stronger. I've travelled loads and worked abroad. I am a strong, independent person (sometimes). Never mind that I have a silly little crush on someone. Well, maybe a big one...

Ok, I admit it. Never mind that I'm crazy about Hot FB Guy. Never mind that every time I see him my stomach jumps.  Never mind that I think about him all the time. I need to sort myself out and approach this situation rationally, in an intellectual manner and start behaving like an intelligent person, instead of a simpering 13 year old. I must be strong. Tomorrow I'm wearing my glasses to school. And no lipgloss.

15,983 words...

The Rules

I visited my cousin last weekend and on the Friday night, we went for dinner. Whilst waiting for our food to arrive, we chatted about relationships and I filled him in on Hot FB guy and the situation with my used to be toxic ex-boyfriend. “Well” he said “Seems like you've got a lot of interest”.

Well, not really. In fact none at all. There seem to be lots of men in my life, but none actually making a move. (Actually, tomorrow night my friend S is setting me up with a friend of her husband's, watch this space....) But over the past two weeks, since Hot FB guy told me he wasn't interested, things have been pretty damn quiet. In the absence of any hot male action to write about, I have decided to elaborate on a subject close to my heart - 'The Rules'.

What are 'The Rules'? They are a code for dating that have been made into a book (authors Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider) and, in my opinion, all women should read them. My lovely friend F introduced me to this useful publication and I'm really very grateful. Basically the gist of it is that the woman should never make the first move, initiate contact with a guy, or call him. This way you don't waste time on guys who aren't really into you. They have to do all the running. And if they aren't interested, they won't. If they don't, then you say 'Next!' and move on. The bit I really like is that you should make yourself seem really busy and unattainable, that you have this fabulous life even if you're at home watching X-Factor on a Saturday night (see previous post). I'm all for manipulation and misleading men to get what you want. Why not? We should use every tool at our disposal.

I'm still single. 'The Rules' haven't magically made me meet my perfect guy (I don't know if he exists anyway). They have made me change my behaviour around men though. If I had chased Hot FB guy then I could have ended up looking really stupid. I didn't initiate anything with him and so when he backed off I was able to pretend it didn't matter. In private and on this blog, I obsessed over him. But on the surface, I acted cool. I'm so glad now that I did.

'The Rules' may seem a bit prescriptive, but they help me feel in control. Chasing a guy can leave you open to rejection. And that's when you end up feeling really crap about yourself. I know that although I did protect myself to some extent by never initiating anything with Hot FB guy, I could have saved myself a lot of time by not responding to his cheeky messages on FB.

I think that although 'The Rules' are old fashioned (the words 'disco' and 'bell bottoms' do make an appearance in the book), the main ideas are still applicable to this day and age. It can just be so confusing sometimes. In my opinion, we need a new version that covers text and FB. Technology has evolved to such a degree that there are many different mediums we can get ourselves into trouble with (anyone ever updated their FB status after half a bottle of wine? Not a good idea...)

Women need these rules. I'm not saying that we are weak or feeble or anything like that. Quite the opposite. It's just that most women I meet are lovely. Many of us are by nature are nurturing, kind, and polite. Let's face it, there are many men out there who are none of these things. Many of us are also under-confident about our abilities or the way we look. If we go on a date with a guy, believe them to be our soul mate and then they don't call, we sometimes think something bad has happened to him. Or he's having an awful crisis or has lost his phone (poor him). Then we call him, just to check everything is OK or because we don't want to seem rude.

Generally, I would say that women love to chat about themselves and their feelings, hopes and desires. When we really like a guy, many of us tend to open up and try to get emotionally close to him. This leads us to getting hurt by men and may cause you to end up with a situation where  you spend all evening lying on the sofa alone, staring obsessively at you FB page, or sobbing into your pint of wine whilst having the inevitable 'all men are pricks' conversation with your best friend (Why? Why didn't he like me??? He doesn't deserve you, you're way out of his league. Really?? Yes babe now just forget about him, you're too good for him anyway....) obsessively checking your phone and then finally, picking yourself up at the end of another failed attempt at a relationship. We should try to be more like men (although obviously we're cleverer than them - ever watched a man try to get a duvet in a duvet cover?) We should toughen up and play the game to the best of our ability. We have feminine wiles - lets use them!

Now, after reading 'The Rules', I am more likely to think 'Oh well, he was just not that into me.....' and move on. This is, after all, much more likely to be the case than the other scenarios listed above. It's made me a lot more pragmatic and matter of fact about the whole dating process.

'The Rules' are part of my hard shell, an armour that protects me. I don't apply them perfectly all the time and to be honest, my shell is rather thin and easily broken. I know that Hot FB guy was able to manipulate me into revealing more than I should have done (in conversation, I mean, not in a physical sense, if only...!) But after reading 'The Rules', I don't call men and I certainly don't chase them. It also helps that I can act, that even if I'm dying inside I can project a happy front. This is a skill I have deliberately cultivated.

A friend of mine bought 'The Rules' on my recommendation and got very angry because in her opinion, they're sexist. I don't think they are. In fact, 'The Rules' are feminist – you don't wait around for men and you basically put yourself first. I like that idea. However, my favourite bit of 'The Rules' is that you should trust in the abundance of the universe and believe that a man who is crazy about you will come along. It's ultimately optimistic. I believe that... not that 'Mr Right' rubbish but that eventually someone who truly likes me will appear. Someone who will do all the running.