Something about nothing

This week is a very busy week at Cesspit Cottages - our daughter came to stay Mon - Weds. And for the next three days myself and HS will be out from the afternoon until late - 'doing' the last of our drama club play tour. After that I run out of excuses for not reading people's blogs and for not writing my own.

Meanwhile here is something I wrote a while back, but didn't get around to posting.

Gravity a disconnected rant

So why should gravity have all the fun. I suspect gravity and nature have to be of the male persuasion – despite the fact we wax lyrical about 'Mother' nature.

Lets take a nonsensical look at the complete absence of facts. Nature made women in such a way that gravity could laugh hysterically as things, over the years, drift inevitably downwards. Clearly nature and gravity are in the clothing business together as we end up buying items to lift and separate, others firm up appearances, or we simply accept defeat and buy big and baggy.

I suspect though there was a major design fault with periods . . .yes we women suffer . . .but with PMS hah . . .we more than get our own back on man.

And who the hell designed the lighting in changing rooms? I thought you shops wanted us to buy your clothes not rush gibbering and tearful from the your shops. Worse still are the hairdressers mirrors. Is this the hand of gravity and nature I see turned against us yet again. Is it their giggling I hear in the changing cubicle next door and is it they who are lurking, sniggering under the dryer hoods in the hairdressers.

Winter is always the kinder of the seasons we can hide in sweaters and big and baggy thick, this and that, but even global warming is making the cover up harder now. But the summer, oh dear me the summer. Sunlight glinting off white legs and dappled orange peel, bat wings, turkey necks, spare tyres all rolled out for the summer months. And nature has clearly addled the younger female brain – as trouser bands dip lower and tops shrink ever-upwards – many of these deluded young things, in truth, look ok . . but oh dear so many don't and worse still appear to have no idea how absurdly awful they look!

As we wonderful women age over the years we do appear to wrinkle readily and need more and more ironing. Whereas men in turn simply grow rugged and more interesting. I ask you is that fair? The male animal can indulge in procreation all year round for evermore, whereas the female animal is doomed to spend a great deal of time getting fat and and playing ping pong with errant hormones.

I look at the young though and do I envy them their youth, oh good grief no. I love being who I am and the age I am and everything that goes with it. Oh yes, like everyone, I have my off times and bad hair days and wobbly scale months and, but I also have my many wonderful memories.

So gravity I poke my finger in your eye. With all the love and laughter I have had in my life so far, do your worst, it matters little. Nature I have golden memories brighter than any of your glorious summer days. So try what you will, my memories will never tarnish.

As for the changing room mirrors though – all you shops out there are you completely blind, do you never actually go into the cubicles yourselves. Supermarkets spend millions on lighting to make us feel good so that we shop and shop . . .why aren't you doing the same. Is it your sole purpose in life to make us women feel suicidal. Or is it some bizarre obligatory law that states that all lighting in all clothes shops absolutely every where combined with special designed mirrors must add at least ten pounds to all us poor unsuspecting women, crease and wrinkle everything dramatically whilst multiply cellulite by obscene amounts. Hah all you clothes shop type people I poke both my finger in your eyes too - big time -and say 'now get the finger out and doooo something about your dreadful berluddy lighting and mirrors, before we do something about you and make you go in these wretched cubicles yourselves.