Russian Roulette

Russian Roulette.

I’ve been a bit off colour recently. Definitely not my usual perky, laugh at life (and myself, lots of times) get up and go –or at least try to- type person. Could it be the cold I have had? Could it be the recent loss of boyfriend? Could it be not having my children this Christmas? Could it be my marathon training has sapped my energy? Could it be I am just a whiney, pathetic thing? Well, whatever. Today I realized what a twit I have been.

It is a sad fact that sometimes it takes someone else’s misfortune, to make you realize how fortunate you are. Don’t worry- I am not going to get all pre Christmas preachy with you! Bear with me. A friend came over today to wish me a Happy Christmas, and to tell me she has cancer of the uterus. She was not resentful about having cancer, because in retrospect it could have been avoided. In the sexual game of Russian Roulette, my friend was not lucky.

Did you know this cancer is the only one that originates from a virus? It is the “by product” of genital warts. Now, I am not super “au fet” with all these sexually transmitted diseases. Infact, for a mother of two girls, I am ridiculously naive! When I was teaching in the UK, and had a tutorial group of 15 year olds, every time I had to give a talk to them about drugs or sex, I was left gobsmacked, wide eyed and shocked! I knew nothing and they knew it all! Better do some swotting before my girls hit the teenage years.

In my era (oh, so wise at the grand old age of 42) contraceptives were so you did not get pregnant. Condoms!? Cringy, embarrassing, and not necessary if you were on the pill or something like that. The problem with herpes or genital warts (sorry if you are eating your supper whilst reading this) is, it is a viral infection, one of those nasty buggers that lurks about your bod, waiting to nab you! Maybe it will get you 2 years on, or 15 or whatever. You can’t get rid of it; you just have to hope your body can keep it at bay.

We girlies are the unlucky ones (mainly because you guys don’t have a uterus!) and when it reappears in our lives, it is on a much grander scale than the embarrassing trip to the doctors years before to have your bits looked at (if you even noticed you had anything down there at all!).

Ok- now I realize how fortunate I am. I have sooooo much to be happy about instead of mopping about like a wet blanket (do blankets mope?). I have a great life, with great people by my side. Just to be on the safe side ,I am booked in for an early MOT with my “front botty doctor”- This is how my children describe the female species nether region ( sorry, the “V” word is one I have a problem saying-a bit like my smirking every time I say chicken BREAST!) A short aside…. We bumped into my gynecologist in town the other day and My Girls said “who is he?” I explained and they said “EEEk, Mummy, how can you look him in the eye, let alone talk to him. He has seen your front bottom!”

What I want to promote is “Condom Week”. We have “weeks” for so many other things! I want that children from an early age are made to feel comfortable with the whole idea of condoms. I want that in sex-ed at school they not just wave what looks like a floppy, beige coloured balloon about. I want that they show you all the fun things they have done with condoms (flavours, shapes, ones that vibrate etc) I want that every girl and boy should have one in their bag or pocket. This is a cancer that you can protect yourself against!

Recipe.

Beat Cancer Smoothie!

Green tea, veggies, fruit, and fiber – but more importantly, positive thinking, the need to survive and strength. Oh and ……..a condom (strawberry, vanilla or bubblegum flavour!) Do not add condome to blender!!!!!!

Very important P.s.

Ladies- get a check up with your front botty doctor annually.
Guys- carry, and use, a condom- any flavour, size or gimmick.
Parents.In Spain they now vaccinate 12 year olds against this virus…..shows it is on the increase! Find out if you can get your daughters vaccinated!

Stupid Cupid!

Been feeling a bit sorry for myself the last few days. Have had a bit of a cold (probably an early Christmas gift from one of my younger students). Sunday was my 42nd Birthday and we are about to enter The Festive Season. I am not the “Bah Humbug” type; I usually love Christmas, but this year looks like it will be a bit of a dud. My daughters will be spending Christmas with their Dad and his girlfriend; rest of my family are celebrating in The U.K whilst I am stuck here in Spain and last, but not least, I find myself without a boyfriend to share my egg nog with or who could pull my Christmas cracker!!

I have mentioned before that I am a believer in all things magical- fairies, Father Christmas, The Easter Bunny etc. But just recently I have been having my doubts about Cupid!

Stupid Cupid.
Looks can be so deceiving. There he is curly blonde hair, angelic style wings, cute cherub face, and innocent smile. He flits about hither and thither; he takes aim; fires his cutesy little bow and flits off somewhere else- leaving a trail of destruction and despair. I think he needs to go back to Cherub School and get some target practice. Can he really have such bad judgment and aim? Or…….does he inflict love on people to be deliberately cruel and nasty? I reckon Cupid has a lot to answer for- as an ethereal being he creates more havoc and angst than if The Greek Gods, The Grim Reaper and Mr. Plague got together and decided to have a “bit of fun” with us mere mortals.

So Stupid Cupid what did we ever do to you. From the minute hormones start careering around our pubescent bodies, this arrow, wielding midget makes our lives hell. He fills our lives with agonising, obsessive, crushes:-

The crushes; The Impossible- the local Love God or Goddess; The Inappropriate- the Biology teacher, one of your parents friends or someone of the same sex as you; The Forbidden Fruit- your best friends boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife; The Street Cred No No- you are besotted with the person know as “The Geek” or “The Loser”. Once you have a crush, you transform from, the intelligent, sensible, sociable and witty you, into a gawky weirdo.

You lose the ability to communicate sensibly. There you are having a perfectly great conversation with your friends and the object of your desire joins the group. Result-you start to babble like an idiot with a speech impediment; you laugh like a hyena at his/her every word; you try to sound cool and knowledgeable “I love Nirvana too- I can’t wait for Kurt to finish writing his next album!” or “ Can you believe Tiger Woods got another duckie in The Americas Cup?!” The icing on the cake- whilst you are braying like a horse at something He/She has said, that piece of spinach that has been on your teeth since lunchtime, dislodges itself and makes a beeline for Crushs` top lip.

Every movement you make is over exaggerated and clumsy. You emerge from the toilets and see your crush walking towards you; suddenly you can not walk in a straight line! As you weave your way towards him, you start to flick your hair, batter your eyelashes and grin insanely at him/her-this combination plays havoc with your senses of balance and vision and you end up stumbling into something or someone. It is only when you have picked yourself up off the floor, acting like nothing has happened, that you realise that you have tucked your skirt into the back of your tights or you left your trousers undone.

When Cupid picks on you, you not only transform into a gawky weirdo, you transform into an insane, gawky, weirdo. Those under the influence of an impossible crush behave, to say the least, bizarrely. Watching the phone, willing it to ring; writing his or her name in silly little hearts; writing your name in silly, little hearts, but your surname is different- it- is the one you will have when you marry your crush; having imaginary conversations with your crush whilst looking in the mirror. These conversations are usually, him/her asking you out or him/her declaring undying love to you. You change your route home, just to walk near their house (those 3 extra miles a day are good exercise-no?) You spend hours getting ready; just incase. If Crush looks at you, you are as high as a kite. If Crush doesn’t look at you, you are suicidal. Everything you see; say; hear is Crush related. My personal favourite- and something I still do- is personal dares, for example, if I make it across the sitting room in 10 steps exactly, he will call me.; if I kiss the tyres on my car, he will love me forever (not proud of this one and it didn’t work!).

In the end you are a wreck- you can’t sleep; you can’t eat (or you can’t stop your self eating) and you can’t concentrate. Your friends tire of you and stop inviting you places, because you keep making a spectacle of yourself. Then along comes that bastard Cupid again and makes your Crush fall in love with your best friend. You better watch out Cupid- if I ever get hold of you, I am going to pull out every blond hair on your cute, cherub head; I am going to pluck off your wings-slowly and painfully and I am going to ram your cutesy bow and arrow up your angelic little ass.