Clumsiness and poor-planning comes with my name. I have a tendency to panic over tasks such as when I might cook dinner, as though my world revolves around some form of time specific order. It doesn't. But for that reason, I'll often find myself in situations I'd rather not be in, situations that require just that little bit more effort and situations that are awkward and embarrassing until further notice.
Take Tuesday; I try to organise myself now to the best of my ability and since, usually things go to plan. But because my arms were aching in Lidl from an overload of ice cream, toilet cleaner and vegetables, I couldn't be bothered to finish my basket full of shopping with a feather light pack of toliet paper, so I didn't.
'I'll get it in ASDA down the road when I get home' I thought, not least because I knew, though the quality wasn't brilliant, I could still get 4 rolls for 65p. So long as my sensitive baby skin made it out of the toilet unscathed, I figured I'd be fine.
Anyhow, I didn't go and as my roll grew thinner and thinner, and I rooted around for spare towels of kitchen roll, I decided I might need to get some. I stopped off at Sainsbury's on my way home from Uni. I didn't need, at this point, anything else; just toilet paper. I found the aisle and scouting the cheapest offer for my tight and government-funded pocket, I soon realised the only one worth my while (ie. under £2) was a 6 pack of jumbo rolls amounting to a total of 2,400 sheets! It was only then, as I awkwardly took myself to the self-checkout, that I realised I might need pens. I searched for the aisle but couldn't find them, which led me to walk around the entire shop with my 2,400 sheet toilet paper and imagining the conversation I would have if someone approached me. (I don't know why but I was adamant that it was the norm for people to ask about the contents of your basket and, moreover, why you were walking around straddling a packet of toilet tissue that you could barely hold. I figured that I'd tell them that I was going clubbing. As a mummy. Standard.)
Had I, with a little less laziness and more perseverance, just bought it when I did my weekly shop anyway, I would have spared the embarrassment.
And now, having just moved from cutting Christmas wrapping paper with rusted nail clippers, I have once again found that not all my ideas are the greatest. I find myself jumping in the shower and forgetting to close my curtains before I go in, meaning that I come out and give spectators a sore view of my rather white behind. I invite people for pre-drinks at mine and forget the alcohol. I throw away tubes of toothpaste and then realise that I need some more before I can be bothered to go out and get some. I try and water dead plants to coax them back to life as though I'm Jesus.
These occurrences can only prevail and, no matter, they make me who I am.
Showing posts with label dressing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dressing up. Show all posts
Sunday, 8 December 2013
Friday, 1 November 2013
A Truly Frightful Evening
England seems to run on a chain of festivities. Everyone looks forward to Christmas and after Christmas; New Year. After New Year, Valentine's day. And after Valentine's; Easter and after Easter; summer. After summer; Halloween and then it's starts over.
Of course I love festivities; Christmas, Easter ... but I've never struck a solid relationship with Halloween. When we were kids we never went out for Halloween, as much as our chocolate fed minds wanted to. We stayed in. We had dinner, answered the door to 'trick or treaters', decorated the front door, had oranges left on our steps, carved pumpkins, drunk our blackcurrant juice through plastic skull straws, dressed up and, once, even had a Halloween disco between the three of us. Halloween was fun for that reason, but that particular day wasn't the reason I lived through the winter.
But this year, I felt a communal spirit. When you're mixing with thousands of people, many of whom worship Halloween like God, it is inevitable that you'll get caught up in it. So this year I thought; Hey! Why not? and put my all into finding a suitable costume.
I went through the motions; classic zombie, vampire, corpse bride but eventually settled on Cruella Deville from 101 Dalmatians.
Let it be known that I really really LOVE dressing up, but only when I make the costumes myself. So I ransacked my drawers looking for anything white, black and spotty. I found all three and headed off to Primark; useful for most necessities and cheap fancy dress. I was looking for some fishnet tights but instead found a perfect white below the knee dress with black shoulder pads. Size 6 was a bit of a squeeze and with a 30cm mud stain right down the middle and a broken zip, it wasn't the definition of classiness nor the piece de resistance but with a tight budget and a price tag of only £5, it was worth it.
I brought it home, alone with a toy dog in a spotty coat that I planned to take with me, and spent 30 minutes rubbing rose scented soap and a flannel into the stains. I managed to remove the majority - it was halloween after all, it didn't matter how awful you looked.
My excitement for getting ready was rising. I had the dress, the dog, the gloves now all I needed was the hair. I back brushed both sides and worked hairspray and flour into one and left the other. I can still, even now, feel the doughy remnants at my roots. It wasn't perfect and not crystal, but as I had already proved with the colour of my dress that grey was now the new white!
For £12 a ticket I was expecting the night to be a blast. Everyone was dressed and, surprisingly, there were far fewer provocative dresses than had crossed my mind. I assumed that I would easily make my money's worth. I had a good time, at least. But I walked away with a feeling of disappointment in hindsight. My dog hadn't even made it out with me, the dress was too tight but generally the whole night just felt so overrated. Everywhere was packed, which I supposed could have been expected, but apart from a good chance to get creative and dress up, the night meant little else. I don't understand why Halloween is so popular. Clubbing was never in the interest of ghosts, nor zombies, nor demons, was it?
But it was different, I suppose, and I gave it a go and now onto the next; Christmas!!
Of course I love festivities; Christmas, Easter ... but I've never struck a solid relationship with Halloween. When we were kids we never went out for Halloween, as much as our chocolate fed minds wanted to. We stayed in. We had dinner, answered the door to 'trick or treaters', decorated the front door, had oranges left on our steps, carved pumpkins, drunk our blackcurrant juice through plastic skull straws, dressed up and, once, even had a Halloween disco between the three of us. Halloween was fun for that reason, but that particular day wasn't the reason I lived through the winter.
But this year, I felt a communal spirit. When you're mixing with thousands of people, many of whom worship Halloween like God, it is inevitable that you'll get caught up in it. So this year I thought; Hey! Why not? and put my all into finding a suitable costume.
I went through the motions; classic zombie, vampire, corpse bride but eventually settled on Cruella Deville from 101 Dalmatians.
Let it be known that I really really LOVE dressing up, but only when I make the costumes myself. So I ransacked my drawers looking for anything white, black and spotty. I found all three and headed off to Primark; useful for most necessities and cheap fancy dress. I was looking for some fishnet tights but instead found a perfect white below the knee dress with black shoulder pads. Size 6 was a bit of a squeeze and with a 30cm mud stain right down the middle and a broken zip, it wasn't the definition of classiness nor the piece de resistance but with a tight budget and a price tag of only £5, it was worth it.
I brought it home, alone with a toy dog in a spotty coat that I planned to take with me, and spent 30 minutes rubbing rose scented soap and a flannel into the stains. I managed to remove the majority - it was halloween after all, it didn't matter how awful you looked.
My excitement for getting ready was rising. I had the dress, the dog, the gloves now all I needed was the hair. I back brushed both sides and worked hairspray and flour into one and left the other. I can still, even now, feel the doughy remnants at my roots. It wasn't perfect and not crystal, but as I had already proved with the colour of my dress that grey was now the new white!
For £12 a ticket I was expecting the night to be a blast. Everyone was dressed and, surprisingly, there were far fewer provocative dresses than had crossed my mind. I assumed that I would easily make my money's worth. I had a good time, at least. But I walked away with a feeling of disappointment in hindsight. My dog hadn't even made it out with me, the dress was too tight but generally the whole night just felt so overrated. Everywhere was packed, which I supposed could have been expected, but apart from a good chance to get creative and dress up, the night meant little else. I don't understand why Halloween is so popular. Clubbing was never in the interest of ghosts, nor zombies, nor demons, was it?
But it was different, I suppose, and I gave it a go and now onto the next; Christmas!!
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