A Life Less Duckey?

Okay, I admit it. I'm useless. I haven't posted here for ages. The shame is killing me. No, really, it is. I know some of you need a dose of GirlTalk every now and then, if for no other reason than to remind you that your life is so much more sane than it could be. Because, let's face it, my life is worse. It's full of cringe-factor moments, weirder-than-fiction moments, so-stupid-she-doesn't-deserve-to-live moments. I don't know how, I don't know why - it just is.

Which makes me wonder - is this my lot in life? Am I really going to go through life making blooper after laughable blooper, year in year out, until I drop dead with the exhaustion (or embarrassment) of it all?

When I was a kid I had this image of a grown-up me, poised and elegant and sophisticated, able to handle every type of situation with ease. All I had to do was get through my ugly-duckling teens and I'd metamorphose into this magnificent swan-like creature.

I'm still waiting.

I still have a startling ability to embarrass myself in public. I still feel awkward and clumsy in people-heavy situations. Bizarre things, I'm-sure-I'll-laugh-about-this-one-day things, still happen to me.

I keep reminding myself that ducklings get a bad rap. They're not really ugly - forget the swan comparison and all you see is cute fluff. Besides, ducks have plenty going for them. Like... um... well, they don't need fertility drugs to produce a whole family in one hit. And... (gosh, this is hard)... they're not too proud to quack for their food... Um... Their feathers are a versatile shade of brown that can be dressed up or down for any occasion? (Is it just me or am I going quackers?)... Ooh! Donald! He's a great duck! And Uncle Scrooge - now, there's a duck who can survive a recession. Ducks... what's good about them... um... paté?

Oh, hell, who am I kidding? Deep down inside, I'm still longing to be the swan I always imagined. But, you know what, duck or swan, it's kind-of irrelevant. We both swim in the same pond, see the same view, get our feet chomped by the same eel, and do the same feather-cleaning routine. It's how well we share the pond that's important. (Now I've just got to remind myself of that every time I look in the mirror, go to a party, take a customer complaint, reverse into a tree...)

Heroine Envy

I love movies. They're all about escapism and, let's face it, we all want to escape every now and then. (If you don't want to escape - ie you love everything about your sweet little life just the way it is - then you're an anomaly. You shouldn't be reading this. And BTW, don't even THINK about e-mailing me how sweet your life is, because I might be tempted to send hate mail.)

The best thing about seeing a movie is that I get to escape "me" for a while. No kids, no mortgage, no messy chaotic frenetic life, no panda eyes because I fell into bed without removing my mascara, no clothes that are four seasons out of date… When I immerse myself in a movie I'm able to be, for a fleeting couple of hours, a hot sexy mama with street savvy and an interesting life.

Oh, come on. You know it's true. Every movie you've loved featured a heroine who was young and slim and cool and had a don't-mess-with-me attitude (or grew one), right? And even if they were made-up to look ugly or fat or frumpy or old or whatever, they weren't even close to any of those things because Hollywood doesn't really do ugly/fat/frumpy/old. It wouldn't sell. It's not our dream.

And the heroes? (Speaking of dreams...) Mmm…

Where was I? Oh. Right. Bottom line: Hollywood produces what we (I use "we" in a broad sense) want to see. And we want to see hot-sexy-mama heroines with kick-arse attitude, not grumpy-frumpy-ugly old tarts with lemon-sucking skills. We want to see heart-stoppingly gorgeous men with you'll-only-cross-me-once determination, not wimpy weedy guys with inferiority complexes. Movies = escapism, remember?

Movie heroines always get their guy, and he's always hot. Movie heroines always save the day, or at least help save the day, and they don't get blown up in the attempt. They always have great shoes and even better one-liners. And they always end the movie looking like… well, heroines.

But movies aren't real. Sometimes it's easy to forget that and get caught up in the why-can't-I-be-more-like-her sulks - when what we should really be doing is celebrating. Because we're the real heroines and heroes. We're living it, doing it, solving it, feeling it. Every day. Bad hair, cranky mood, mismatched socks and all.

So if your made-for-the-big-screen life is looking a little less than perfect today - don't worry. You're in good company. And we my not be on a Jolie-type wage, but we're all doing star performances. (Pass the popcorn, someone!)

Yummy Mummies Take A Hike!

I blame the camping. Before camping I was functional. BC I was coping with life. BC I was zen mother and loving it. (Okay, maybe not the zen bit.)

And now? Now it ain't pretty. Yummy Mummy? Hardly. Scrummy Mummy? Not at my place. Instead we have a Real Mummy scale, modelled on the richter scale with slightly less catastrophic results. And I can tell you right now that "scrummy" and "yummy" don't feature (except in the Mummy's-gorging-herself-on-food-again sense).

Here it is. The Real Mummy scale:

1  Dummy Mummy - Nappy brain has taken over. Thinking hurts. Serious thinking brings on anxiety attacks. Even a trip to the supermarket represents a threat to your (barely-firing) neurons.
2  Glummy Mummy - It's too late to shove the kid back in, demand a refund, or get an exchange card. This is your lot. Sleepless nights, sick on your shoulder, sex deprivation (worse, you're happy with that) and a life that doesn't feel like your own. Forever. You've got every damn right to feel sad. Wallow in it, Girlfriend.
3  Crummy Mummy - You've decided you suck as a mum. You're grumpy, you're tired, you still haven't worked out what your baby wants, the washing's been on the line since last Friday, and you haven't vacuumed in a month. It's baked beans for tea again, and don't you think you should get back to work and bring in some money?
4  Numb-y Mummy - It's been so long since you had a full night's sleep you've forgotten what it feels like. In fact, feeling is an optional extra that just doesn't fit into your life right now. You're so tired you can't even rouse the energy to cry.
5  Tummy Mummy - No matter how hard you try for the Yummy Mummy I'm- already-back-in-skinny-jeans image, you've got a spare tyre - no, a flat spare tyre - hanging off your waist. Liposuction sounds good, only it costs way too much and it won't shrink your saggy baggy skin. This isn't what you signed up for, this doesn't feel like your body, and you wish it would all just go away.
6  Rummy Mummy - Okay, so it ain't good for the quality of your breastmilk, but it sure helps calm the (frayed) nerves. It also helps you forget about your tummy (see 5 above) for a short time.
7  Hummy Mummy - It's official: things are really bad. Random tuneless humming indicates a) your brain-cells have completely broken down (what song are you humming, anyway?) and b) your sanity is in serious doubt. Maybe it's time to take a wee break. A week or two on a deserted beach with a good book, plenty of your favourite drink, and no hint of kids should do it.

Sound familiar?