Uh oh - I am a new blogger and would like to enter the competition.
Mmmm - another blogger coming out the woodwork at the scent of a competition. I am wondering how that makes the regular CL bloggers feel.
So I am writing this with trepidation, I do feel as though I am trespassing. People 'on here' already seem to know each other and I feel very much like the new girl. Good grief not again . . . I hate being the new girl - well more woman now. . . . er much older woman . . as my slim, tall, very attractive 19 year old daughter would delightedly point out. Grief even her hair is gorgeous - why is nature so cruel - I age, she blossoms. Then again I have romped through the menopause and she has years of PMS ahead of her. I have agreed to pay for her therapy for surviving her childhood with me, but I am only coughing up for a year. I don't want her to become too normal she might realise that I am even more nuts than she already thinks I am.
I live in a delightful village in Scotland. Delightful that is on the surface - dig a little and then is when it starts to get really interesting.
Two hundred years ago I would have been burned as a witch. Nowadays I advertise in the village bi-monthly magazine as a reflexologist. It is certainly a lovely way to meet people. Although I am not entirely sure that my village is completely ready for alternative therapies. Then again I can claim satisfied customers. One lady rushed up to me in the middle of the street, following a reflexology treatment the day before, threw her arms around me yelling 'thank you, thank you, you've cured my constipation' . . . . So that was confidentiality out the window then. Another lady has also credited me with helping her and her husband get pregnant. Good grief that could really scramble the gossips.
My witch status was finally established when I did talk on Reflexology for our local Women's Institute. Now there is a scary bunch for you. I did the talk as a demonstration. I couldn't face standing up in front of all these wonderful ladies - that would have meant looking at them and they did and do intimidate me so and I knew I would end up gibbering. So I sat with my back to them and talked them through my 'volunteers' feet. I talked about the cold she had, chest problems, stomach problems . . . slight irritable bowel and oh look an underactive thyroid. I also got rid of her headache. The room went quieter and quieter. Then a voice said 'oh yes and the broom stick is parked out side.'
I replied 'its brand new so hands off.' Another voice said 'oh we think you're a good witch.' I got tea and cakes at the end and sat at the 'top table'. I never did find out who had voiced the witch opinion. It has never been discussed. Happily in the last eight years there hasn't been a stake, or bonfire in sight.
Now I am studying to become a Stress Management Therapist - I hope it doesn't damage my reputation. Meanwhile I have a pile of reading on stressed nervous systems, how to become more assertive, how to allow your sensitivity to work for you and so on. I have to be on top of my reading and written my third and final assignment by Friday week - so panic on. Stressed, that's me and not a magic wand to be found anywhere and now I have started blogging.