And so the story begins ….
A novice to the world of blogging, previously only exercising my voyeuristic skills, whilst remaining mute, I have decided to pen my thoughts in a blog – but for whom I know not. Having recently left a busy London career in the beauty industry in a bid to forego my 5 hour daily commute from the Surrey/Hamsphire borders to Kensington I embarked on a programme of renewal, for myself and my home in the hope that I may also go to the gym more often, build in a four minute high intensity training session every day and even on occasion drink a green juice ….
In my first weeks of ‘resting’ I managed to: clear several man drawers of an assortment of detritus, I lay claim to the man drawer descriptive BEFORE Michael McIntyre and refuse to be defined by his humour and my age*; decorate a small study and my entire entrance hall with my brand new 3 year old (ie brand new three years ago but never used!) Dulux PaintPod™ (of which more another time); made several trips to the charity shop with the cast-offs from a wardrobe purged of everything not worn in the past 18 months, just like the magazines tell you to, engage the services of a plasterer and a decorator to FINALLY re-plaster and redecorate my bedroom from a gruesome claret to a soothing whiter shade of pale; book a holiday; purchase a Vitamix, the all singing all dancing eye wateringly expensive …food blender; create some order in my bathroom cabinets, lovingly cleansed all my Bobbi Brown pallets inside and out with Klorane eye make up remover (why?), and shampooed my make up brushes, and sorted lips from eyes from cheeks into Muji space-saving stackable storage labeled with a labeling gun, no less; speak to insurers and catch up on all those things I normally squeezed into my walk from the tube to the office at the beginning of the day or office to tube at the end of the day … But now I seem to be on top of all those jobs and cabin fever is setting in and so my blogging story begins …
I was always brought up to be polite and never immodest … Well, the odd time I have dipped my toe into the social media pond I have managed to leave my humility at the information-super-highway door and show off in the most shameful way. Breakfast posts? Check! Feet posts? Check! Proud Mumma posts? Check, check and double check!! Children shaming posts – oh yes!!
Furtively poring over tweets, Facebook posts and Instagram images, Social media has taken me right back to my neurotic teen self … You know the sort of thing … Does my bum look big in this tweet? Does my post make me look thin/pretty/clever? Shallow, moi? So as I begin this journey you will need to be my confidante, teacher and guide ….
I will welcome criticism, constructive and otherwise …. I await my first trolling so that I may caste them out into the ether in a fit of pique and shall daily check my followers on all the mediums to further feed my neurosis in the same way I used to jump on the scales every morning to check that I hadn’t gained a pound overnight I was Bridget Jones before she even took shape on the pages of Helen Fielding’s unforgettable Diary.
About me …. As far as demographics go, I have checked and I am a Generation X-er married to a Baby Boomer with two Generation Y offspring …. An empty nester who likes nothing better than filling that nest again with my own children, other people’s animals, food, wine, beauty stuff and friends. An ardent consumer of beauty products luxe and otherwise, a consummate shopper and researcher of all things retail … as I have got older my love of fashion hasn’t dwindled but rather been diminished by my burgeoning curves and a lack of high street retailers that don’t want to dress me in ‘big girl’ dresses and waterfall necklines (with my honey-bunz, anything that adds volume in the chest area is a serious no-no!). I would like to live in a world created by Chrissie Rucker of The White Company, all muted greys, naturals and a palette of whites … sublimely chic but then I am drawn to something ridiculously frivolous ….. and pink …. Or worse still …. TWEE! I love a ‘theme’ but not fancy dress, and to hang out around Bermondsey, Brick Lane and Shoreditch and pretend to be a hipster … any excuse to throw on a comfortable pair of Birkenstocks in the name of fashion – not comfort
Next year, I will be 50 – there I have said it, actually committed my true age to the internet, the point of no return. My younger brothers no longer have to pretend to be my older brothers and my friends can stop badgering me to admit that George Michael’s Last Christmas is not ‘before my time’ – but David Cassidy is, other than in the Partridge Family … and my children can revert to calling me mum in front of strangers instead of Sam (I used artistic license there – is that permitted in the blogging fraternity/sorority?) … If I slip up on blogging etiquette do let me know
Twice I was a mother,
Once I was a wife,
Tore off the labels,
Now all that’s left is life.