I have no idea what’s come over me but I’m on a serious OCD crusade to clear out my house. I’m a neat freak on the best of days with everything having to be just so, and despite the children being six and (almost) two years old, I find no excuse for a messy and disorganised home. But this week I’ve taken it up a notch and I’ve gone through the entire house with a fine tooth comb.
It started with Millie’s room when I decided to reorganise her wardrobe and check her clothes for what she’d outgrown. I ended up driving into town to buy her two sets of storage drawers to put on her desk to organise her craft bits and pieces and colour code her pom-poms, lolly sticks, jewels and stickers so that it wouldn’t be kept in her trunk anymore. I straightened every book on her bookshelf and lined up the spines, ordered her hair ties, bracelets and bands in colour and size order and realigned her teddies in her already tidy bedroom. And Millie was more than happy to help, tipping everything into a pile on her rug and sorting piece by piece as we chatted about boys and shopping like two old hens.
If that wasn’t satisfying enough I then moved onto the lounge where I took the stack of DVD’s from the rack and threw them all in the bin, simply because I never watch them anymore and Gabriele pulls them out on a daily basis and scatters them across the floor. In the kitchen I threw away cutlery, glasses, tubs, tins, bottles, placemats, napkins, plants, herbs and ingredients I never use. I literally gutted the place in an addictive frenzy of filling my recycling bins.
I then headed upstairs to the bathroom where I threw out the weighing scales, shampoo bottles and bath towels, before finally ending up in my bedroom. Since having my surgery several months ago my body shape and size has changed dramatically with my bust increasing a further two cup sizes above what I had already been enhanced to; this meant that dresses, tops and bras no longer fit me at all so over the past few months I’ve been shopping like it’s the end of the world to replace my wardrobe. I cleared out sack upon sack of clothes and still have so much left, a lot of it I’ve never worn and still with their price tags. Everything is now colour coordinated, in order from summer to winter wear and hung with matching accessories and jewellery. Twitch, twitch, OCD.
I really don’t know what’s come over me, it seems that I’ve lost my sentimentality completely; this is coming from a girl who in the past would have looked at a glass jar and thought I might need it to store sweets or make homemade jam so I’d wash it out and keep it in the cupboard along with a million other pointless pieces and trinkets. I have dresses I’d never worn but still kept just incase an occasion might arise when I’d need them, and not even half empty bottles of creams and perfumes that I hardly used but didn’t want to throw out until I’d used them all. But I didn’t um or ah at all over it, I’d go as far as to say that I’m quite excited to fill sack after sack load with belongings and trinkets and slam dunk them into the garden bin.
Perhaps this is some kind of subconscious life detox and the itch simply won’t go away until I’ve completely stripped every inch of my being back to the bare bones, starting over and rebuilding my life again. I’m really holding myself back from redecorating the entire house, and sat here laughing as I type this because I’ve already contemplated planning mood boards of the exact opposite colour scheme to what I have now; turning charcoal to ivory, coral to mint and polished glass to wood. Argh why does new year’s do this to me!? Have to say it’s pretty fun though, in a radical/crazy kind of way. 🙂
Just as I thought Gabriele was getting over the worst of his chesty cough and cold, it’s only come back with a vengeance and he’s more creaky and croaky than ever bless him. He’s a shuffly, tired little snot nugget at the moment, clinging onto me like a monkey and pleasantly rubbing his sopping wet nose all over my shoulders and arms. Yet even though he’s feeling awful and his face is red hot, he still has the most beautiful smile, twinkling eyes and lovely little voice as he says “Mumma” and holds my hand; I love how he strokes my face as we snuggle together whilst he has his bottle before bed. He’s my little soldier and never stops smiling, it only serves to show me that if my baby who doesn’t know any better doesn’t complain when he feels rubbish, then what excuse do we have to moan about our day as adults.
I’ve been thinking of changing my hair colour back to my natural shade of a number 7-dark blonde/light brown for a few weeks now. Over the years I’ve had all sorts of coloured hair from black, blue, peroxide blonde, lime green, dark brown and light brown to highlights and split tone; I’ve had it down to the small of my back in length and then chopped off right up to my jawline, and my hair has flittered between sleek and glossy to dry and split with each and every torturous change. So maybe it’s time for me to go back to nature again? After all, we’re all perfectly balanced to suit our natural tones, from our eyes to our skin and hair colour, nature knows best. It’s been almost thirteen years since I last saw my real hair colour, and as now seems to be a time for starting over, then what better way to begin the rest of forever as my natural self? I just need to be brave enough to make that leap and say goodbye to my blonde highlights.
There are so many people in this world who go so far out of their way to change themselves, fake tan, fake lashes, fake nails, fake hair, fake smile, truckloads of makeup, surgery, enhancements, padding and pulling-in, so much so that you’d never recognise them after a wet wipe and their clothes off. It’s a good thing to feel positive and happy in yourself, and I’m all for having confidence and appreciating beauty in everyone, but sometimes in this rat race of life and craving acceptance we completely lose ourselves and what makes us unique.
Now you could say it’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black as I’ve had surgery in the form of my eyes lasered so that I could see without glasses and my breasts enhanced to correct their natural asymmetry. But I haven’t changed my face, I’m don’t walk around topless in public and I’ve been a high maintenance Barbie doll in the past and it didn’t do anything to encourage me loving my natural self. If anything, being a peroxide bimbo with long nails and tiny clothes just showed me that people oogled over me for looking the opposite of what I really am. The more we change ourselves and receive compliments for how we look, the harder we crash back down again when the makeup and fakery comes off and we have nothing but what mother nature gave us. This is why girls and women suffer from body confidence issues, because we’re all encouraged to look better and change who we are, but you can never get away from yourself, you’ll always be the same person underneath.
So rather than having a hundred people compliment me for physical fakery, I’d appreciate fifteen people complimenting me for just being me and looking how Mother Nature intended. I’m a fairly natural girl as it goes, I never wear fake lashes or even mascara for that matter, I don’t tan, I don’t have fake nails, I don’t put my makeup on with a shovel, just a touch of foundation and a flick of eyeliner and that’s me ready in under five minutes. The only thing fake about me is my breasts and my hair, for which I can’t undo surgery but I can dye my hair back to my natural colour.
I wonder how many people would be capable of spending just one year of their life being nothing but themselves, no fakery, no walls up, just nature. Would people’s perception of you change? Would some stop talking to you or giving you attention because they no longer find you attractive? Or would you realise who your true friends and admirers are? Those who like you for you and not what comes out of a bottle or packet. Would people snigger if you stopped wearing stomach control garments, or whisper about you for wearing a bra your own size instead of using padding? Would they call you plain and boring and nothing special, or compliment you on your natural beauty? I find it fascinating, and it seems a challenge that would benefit us all on more levels than one. Hmm…
Week two of the P90X3 routine and I’m really enjoying the challenge of this meaty three-month workout. I feel so fine tuned in body mind and soul when I workout, and the sweat, blood and tears make it all worth it when I can wear the clothes that I like without feeling uncomfortable. I’m still very much a greedy piggy when it comes to eating, and I know that switching my naughty chocolate treats and the occasional glass of wine for something healthier will give me greater results and definition, but I believe life isn’t about punishing yourself, it’s all about having a little of what you fancy and balancing your lifestyle. I don’t deny myself anything, but I push myself to work for it and I appreciate it all the more as a result.
I have so many people writing to me and stopping me in the street for advice on dieting and getting into shape, that if I had a penny for every time I got asked for diet tips I’d be a multimillionaire twice over by now! I’m considering putting it altogether in a kind of greedy-piggy diary with my favourite recipes, most successful and manageable workout routines and tips for staying focused and sticking to it. Would you use it if I did?
Three weeks into January and I’m high-fiving the children over our teamwork. Bedtimes are no longer a chore as we all line up in our pyjamas and brush our teeth together before snugging up to sleep, we sit at the table to eat as a family together every mealtime and we’ve been on many a country walk, looking for birds and spotting aeroplanes and buses. Everything just flows, it’s beautiful and all that I’ve ever wished for and more. Yes Gabriele has the odd grizzle when he’s not feeling well or if he gets frustrated over not being able to communicate what it is that he wants; but the children don’t fight, they don’t fuss and they do all they can to help out and please me. They are my angels and I couldn’t possibly love them anymore than I do right now. This is what life is about. If you set nothing but a good example for your little ones, start as you mean to go on and be the best role model that you can then they’ll flourish in ever sense, with my adorable babies being testament to that.
Children aren’t a toy or weapon to be picked up and put down when you feel like it, they’re a life long commitment that need care, love, attention and your time. You get back what you put in, you earn trust and respect from how you treat others; and having my children come running up to me, throwing their arms around my neck and kissing me with sloppy wet smooches all over my face just makes every day amazing. To feel love in the most purest and uncomplicated of forms is bliss and I hope that you will all find it too someday.