My Terminal Condition

I just found out that I am suffering from a terminal condition. I watched my mother grapple with it, but I never thought it would happen to me. Certainly not when I was sweet-sixteen, fancy free and knew everything a girl needs to know about anything that really mattered, like music, clothes, love, guys......which my mum knew nothing about.

On the chance that someone else out there may be suffering the same disease I have, in total ignorance, I thought I should speak out and share my experiences so that you know you are not suffering alone.

The first symptom I realised I had is noise-intolerance. For some strange reason, my ears have become sensitive to noise. Especially the noise my daughter chooses to call music. Every time the volume button hits 12, I have to scream "turn that thing down", just like my mother did, or else I shall surely lose my mind.

I also noticed that I have now acquired, just like my mum, the most overwhelming urge to rest my eyes in front of the TV especially after 11pm and particularly during a movie. Mum always does that and I have been  assuming that she is falling asleep and ask her to give in and just go to bed. Every single time she replies "I am not sleeping, I am just resting my eyes".  I never understood it before, but now it makes perfect sense to me!

Another symptom I noticed I have is that I seem to have suffered a total loss of the sense of  what's "cool". I first noticed this when I tried to surprise my daughter by buying her new clothes. It was not her birthday, not Christmas, she had not had to sing about it for some months, no special occasion.... I was just being cool. I felt really cool about it until I noticed after some weeks that the "totally cool" clothes were not being used for anything else apart from staying in the house. I mean...the jeans. I would have killed to get them (in my day), close fitting and flared at the bottom, totally "hip" there is no way MY mum would have bought them for me, and they cannot make it past the door?!!

The most disturbing thing I noticed, however, is that I must be losing the ability to speak intelligibly or perhaps I suffer permanent voice loss! Every time I issue instructions to the kids, they either cannot understand or they cannot hear me. I am very sure about this because I find myself having to repeat the same instructions over and over and over again, before I finally get some response. Just to prove my point, my Saturday nights go something like this:

9.30pm – "Its bedtime, turn off the telly, tidy up and go to bed"
10pm – "Girls, I said it's bedtime, turn off the telly, tidy up and go to bed!"
11pm – "DID I NOT SAY IT'S BEDTIME?!!! TURN THAT TV OFF OR I WILL MOVE IT TO MY BEDROOM FOR GOOD. AND TIDY UP BEFORE YOU GO TO BED!!"

Finally, they do go to bed, but I think my speech must have got warbled up at the end because the living room, the bedroom and any other room they have been to is in a thorough state of disarray!

I don't know what this condition is called, but I have watched my mother live with it. To anyone else out there who finds themselves in the same predicament – you are not alone!

A Very Bra-zen Story

I got a very thought provoking email from a friend the other day.

It was a story of a man who went to buy a bra for his wife. When he got to the lingerie shop, the poor man was totally bowled over by the sheer variety – there were so many colours, sizes, shapes, styles and fabrics to choose from. (Coming to think of it, no wonder we girls spend 6 hours shopping for one pair of shoes which we eventually do not actually buy on that day, but return a week later, to repeat the process of choosing...and end up buying the first pair of shoes we looked at the last week! But then again, that is a story for another day.)

Anyway, back to my email. The shop attendant, seeing the man's utter dismay tells him not to worry because despite all the apparent variety, there are basically 3 types of bras – the Catholic type, the Salvation Army type and the Baptist type.

Unfortunately, this helpful advice got the man in a total spin, so, to put him out of his misery, the attendant explains it to him like this:

The Catholic type support the masses, the Salvation Army lift up the fallen, and the Baptist type make mountains out of molehills.

After falling off my seat and howling with laughter, I thought about it critically and came to the conclusion that none of those bras quite fit me, I neither have masses nor am I fallen and as for mountains, I have no desire for any such things. I need to find myself a bra!

I'm thinking perhaps the Quakers. They consider outward rites and symbols unnecessary (and even a hindrance) to spiritual experience and value simplicity.......