A woman in decline?

Behind Every Line There’s a Story- a woman in decline.

I am constantly on the look out for that miracle lotion or potion; that cream or mask that will get rid of the lines and crevices that plague my face and body. I have tried hundreds; ones with plant extracts; ones with animal extracts; ones with unpronounceable extracts; ones you apply at night; ones you apply in the morning; ones in tubes; ones in pots; ones in fancy capsules (never sure if I am meant to swallow them, spread them or stick them up my bum?) and ones that come with their own special spatula. All in vain, the lines stay firmly etched in place. My behaviour must be normal, otherwise why would there be such a huge array of these, unfortunately, useless products? All the models that promote these creams in the glossy magazines, look stunning-but I reckon I could too if I was 25 years younger and had my own personal make up artist.

But the other day, something someone said stopped me in my tracks; made me see my lines in a whole new light. There I was whining on, yet again, about my wrinkles and she said “Behind every line there’s a story”

That night I did something I never ever do-I got out of the shower and instead of skidding, swiftly past that spawn of Satan-the mirror- I stopped and had a good look at myself; I even put on the over mirror light to have a better inspection . I usually avoid mirrors and bright light like the plague, but this time I took a good look at all the lines, wrinkles, stretch marks and scars and realized that my body is like a book; my autobiography. Where to start; because despite all those creams, there is still so much choice!

Chapter One. Childhood Scars- cautionary tales. The one on my hand from playing with a penknife I shouldn’t have played with. The chickenpox scar on my neck, where my brother, not satisfied with his own crusts, sneakily picked one of mine off whilst I slept. The half moon shaped one next to my eye; the result of my one and only attempt at fly fishing with my Dad. That one on my forehead from when my brother got over excited playing chase and smashed a vase on my head! Finally from knees, down- all those bumps and scrapes and dents: a wonderful childhood filled with; climbing trees; slipping on rocks at the beach; jumping on, and falling off, beds and general, day dreaming clumsiness.

Chapter Two. Laughter lines-fairy tales. Fun with friends; riding a bike without stabilizers; squinting at the sun whilst sun bathing; first loves; Christmas; Birthdays; roller coasters; seeing the blue line on the pregnancy test stick, getting my first job and so many more. All these wonderful events recorded in the jigsaw puzzle round my eyes.

Chapter Three. Frown lines-tales from the dark side. The small line on the bridge of my nose that appears when I am puzzled or do not understand something (this line appears a lot!) The feint lines on my forehead born from worry- exams, fights with friends, fights with family, a difficult pregnancy and the numerous other obstacles that have been put in my path to try me. The deep furrow in the middle of my brow- an ever present reminder of a marriage that went wrong.

Chapter Four. Baggy eyes and dark circles-bedtime tales. I have eyes like a panda most of the time; a combination of babies stealing all my sleep hours and sleep disturbed by guilt and emotions through separation and divorce. Not much improvement, despite gels and fridge, cold creams, but this is because now life is FUN- the dating game is on again.

Chapter Five. Stretch marks-happy ending tale. How I fought to keep these at bay-cocoa butter, mashed avocado (what a waste of my favourite food!), baby oil, nut oil, cooking oil! How silly- after all the problems I had to conceive and I try to erase the permanent reminder that I have two amazing daughters!

Cracks and crevices; lines and wrinkles. Signs of a woman in decline? No.

10 things I will not do when I am old.

I sat on my terrace yesterday and watched the world go by. I live in a small village, so the world going by was mainly old folk (therefore the world was going by was going rather slowly!) I am always amazed at all the different sizes,shapes and colours of people there are in the world; yesterday I concentrated on "The Elders" of the tribe. Here are 10 things I will not do when I am old:-

1) I will not walk around the streets in my slippers- even if bending down to get my shoes on is hard work.
2) I will not sit on park benches tut tutting at the young people that go by. I will not criticise their clothes, hair, make up etc (gosh, actually I think I do that already-must stop!)
3) I will not live my life round meal times. I will use a watch, rather than breakfast, lunch and dinner, to organise my day.
4) I will not have my hair permed and dyed white or pale blue.
5) I will not wear an apron in public (blimey, it only takes a second to whip one of those off!)
6) I will not walk round muttering to myself (Oh no, yet another thing I already do)
7) I will not take up knitting and sewing- I have never done either of these past times, so why do I have to do it when I am old?
8) I will not use the phrases "when I was young....." or "in my day...."
9) I will let my daughters make their own decisions and mistakes and I will let them fly the nest and I won't criticise and I won't be a pain in the butt burden to them (yeah-right!!!)
10)I will not tell anyone willing to listen about my various ailments.

One thing I will do when I am old is get a really groovy shoping trolley on wheels!

It is Saturday, and I don't like cooking on a Saturday so try this simple to make but delicious salad (will also help you with "Operation Bikini")

Crispy Parama Ham and Mozarella Salad.

Create your usual salad with all the things you like from the following:- salad leaves, tomatoes, avocado, sweetcorn, cucmber, radishes, carrot etc. tear up a large mozarella ball and add it to the salad. Put 6 or 7 thin slices of Parma Ham on a plate and microwave for 2 minutes on full power. Dress your salad with oil, vinegar and freshly ground black pepper (you don't need to add salt as the Parma ham is fairly salty) Place the divinely, crispy Parama ham on top of the salad and ....voila! Enjoy.

I am a Goddess!

I have just realised I control the weather. I had no idea that I had such powers. What do you mean you don't believe me? Ok, doubting Thomas, need proof? Well, here you are:-
I wash my car or windows and it rains.
I have a mountain of laundry to dry and the weather turns damp, without a breath of a breeze.
I buy suntan lotion and the sun disappears.
I just think about digging my shorts out from the back of the wardrobe and the temperatures drop by ten degrees.
I plan a barbecue and a violent storm erupts.
See? If you are planning an event that requires good weather you had better get in touch with me first so that I do none of the above!

Whatever the weather I am having a barbecue tonight- check out the recipe below for a scrummy starter!

Baked Camembert with Calvados and Walnuts.(serves 2)

Ingredients.

1 camembert cheese (discard the paper wrapping, but keep the box)
2-3 tablespoons of clavados
A couple of sprigs of fresh rosemary
50 grams of walnuts (roughly chopped)
A drizzle of olive or walnut oil.

Method

With a fork, prick the top of the cheese all over and place in a dish. Drizzle the calvados all over the top and leave to marinade for at least an hour (overnight is even better). Put the rosemary sprigs in the bottom of the cheese box and place the cheese on top. Cover the top of the cheese with the walnuts and a drizzle of oil. Put the top back on the box and cover it all with foil. Now you can put the whole package on the BBQ grill or in the oven for 15-20 minutes at 180 degrees C. Place the box on a serving plate and cut a cross in the top of the cheese, to allow you to get to the divinely runny cheese interior.
I like to serve this with boiled baby potatoes, raw vegetables or crusty bread toasted and rubbed over with a garlic clove. Divine!

As I am planning a BBQ-don't forget to take your umbrella out with you tonight!

I am back!

Watch out! I am back! Finished my manuscript- and  as you can see from my photo, I am soooo happy to have time to blogg again! How are you all? Watch this space!!!! Kisses from Kate

 

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.