Is It Just Me: Or Do We Turn Into Pussies As We Get Older?

I know, that’s a strong title right there people isn’t it? No messing about with a title like that. I bet I get some disappointed hits from folk with that title, eh? Naughty me.

Anyway, this has stemmed from a conversation, well, in fact, several conversations, that Elder and I have had. It comes up every time I say I think I should dye my hair, or I go clothes shopping and drag his sorry backside along (so not very often. He hates shopping with me).

When I met Elder, I had pink and red stripped hair. I also had a penchant for holey jumpers and dresses made of silver holographic material. Not to mention fish net tights.

In my defence, I was 18, a size 8, and lived on a diet I wouldn’t recommend of B&H cigarettes and vodka, along with the odd pot noodle. Hence the size 8.

Back then, 15 years ago, I didn’t give a crap. I didn’t care if people starred at me, I didn’t care about the odd cat call or snide remark. If I liked it, or wanted to adorn my body or hair with it, I did it, or wore it, or pierced it. I had fake lip piercings, I had ear cuffs that looked like 5 holes were filled with little hoops, and two genuine holes in each ear. I even once wore an ear cuff that had a chain to my nose.

So, what happened?

I got all conservative and normal.

All I have worn for the last 14 years now is sensible jeans (basically flared jeans in the summer, skinnies in the winter), vests and t-shirts. The odd slogan top but nothing daring (like the Moschino dress I was once leant that said very, very naughty words all over it and was slightly see through).

I also sang, and danced, in public, whether there was a genuine call for me to do so or not. I would sing down the street with friends. I would dance across the grass of the gardens I hung round in. I danced in goth clubs were jumping was the preferred medium. I went in for talent shows for a giggle (and won).

I loved any excuse to show off.

Now, unless I am very, very drunk, or in the case of this weekend, have headphones on whilst cooking (in our house, you can have Mini with one stereo on, Liittlest with the TV on, Elder with his record deck on, so if want to listen to my music, I plug headphones in), I don’t sing in public, let alone dance (although Mini prefers this, if I dared move for two minutes at the disco in the Mum’s bit she went crackers).

I used to love singing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no recording artist talent but I can hold a tune.

I think, as we get older, and I’m not that old anyway, we just disappear into being a Mum. Into a role, which I don’t begrudge but I do feel I have lost who I am at the heart of me.

Hence why I suggested we become pussies as we get older. But who are we scared of embarrassing?

I am scared of being that Mum. That one who the other Mums talk about due to their mad dress sense and punk hair.

I am scared of embarrassing my children, as we know kids can be bloody rotten to other kids and I don’t wish to do something or dress a certain way just to please me that ends up causing them misery.

I haven’t started dressing like a Granny, I feel that is far off in the future, but it’s all become a bit boring and I don’t let loose anymore.

Am I the only one? I don’t suggest I should still walk around with holographic dresses on or with madly coloured pink and red hair. But I don’t know why I have become someone scared to go out and dance or shy of singing or having fun.

I think a change needs to happen. I’m planning that at the next opportunity I get when the Brats are at an Aunts house, Elder and I shall go to a Karaoke night and I am damn well going to not hide and I’m not going to have to drink two bottles of wine to get up and join in.

Have you become a wuss? What do you miss of the good old days before you worried about what the neighbours/kids/teachers said or thought?

Let me know!


Pop Stars Are Not Role Models for Your Child. You Are.

Bless that Rihanna.

Not since Madonna and Ga Ga has someone caused such consternation regards what she wears or, more to the point, doesn’t wear. 

Last week, at Paris Fashion Week, she was photographed wearing a mesh top and no bra. Yes, everyone, her Lady Lumps were front and centre.

Now, what Rihanna thinks of bras I don’t know. I’m not a massive fan of the buggers myself, and there is no greater feeling than removing one after a long day (especially the scaffold ones I have to wear these days). However, the fact that she has a rather admirably fine pair of them, well, good luck to her. She’s a grown woman, she is clearly confident enough to pull it off without a hint of embarrassment, and frankly, boobs are such that you may as well make the most of their flashability before they droop. There is only a short window of opportunity. 

The media had a field day though, and, as per usual, the same “how dare she! She’s a role model for Britain’s youth!” was voiced loud and clear. 

Well, the thing is, I don’t agree. 

When Harry from that crap band my daughter likes goes out merrily shagging anything with a pulse and a Lady Garden, there is mild tuts but he’s treated like a legend. Rihanna celebrates her lovely figure and pert bosoms and she gets widespread condemnation. 

The thing which annoys me is not just the blatant sexism, but the fact that there is a suggestion that, down to Rihanna, a load of young impressionable girls will be no doubt going to their local shopping centres with their own burgeoning breasts on show. 

How, though, is that Rihanna’s fault?

There seems to be a suggestion, linked to the media, that Pop Stars and TV folk are suddenly responsible  for what our children do. It’s their fault if your child goes out inappropriately dressed. Or if they have daft tattoos too young. 

Yet it’s not their fault. It’s your fault.

Celebs are not there to parent or guide our children. They are not there to show them what is right and wrong. 

I’m finding, as Mini gets older and starts to get to the Tween age (she’s 7 in April), that she likes a wide range of celebs and their music or TV shows. She loves Perrie from Little Mix, and as she is blonde too (although I’m not sure Perrie is as naturally blonde as my daughter), Mini wanted to dye the ends of her hair just like her favorite pop star had last year.

This is as close to dressing like Little Mix as my daughter gets

If I had of let her do that, whose fault would that have been? The whole putting chemicals in her hair thing? It would have been my fault as her Mum. 

She also likes Rihanna and Katy Perry, and although both dress the way they do which is, if not age appropriate certainly makes the most of their figures, there is no way on earth I would allow Mini to wear anything like what they wear. Especially not the vest with on show boobage thing.

It’s not the job of these people, who we will probably never meet and who, most times, are guided by a need to be in the newspapers and on gossip sites to tell our kids how to behave.

It’s about time we told the media that too. Stop making excuses when parent’s fail to have the sense they were born with. 

So, next time you blame a celebrity for your child’s behavior or dress sense, take a moment and take responsibility. There is such a word as no after all. 

The Great Train Robbery

This is a post that was brought to me for write up by my far busier middle sis-in-law, and on behalf of my lovely niece Jess.

My niece, Jess is on the cusp of exciting times. She’s at the UCAS form stage, ready to mark down where she wishes to spend the next umpteen years of her education, studying to be a Doctor.

Now, studying to be a Doctor in this day and age of fees and living expenses etc is not cheap. However, just getting round the country to even go and view these possible universities is a costly expense in itself.

Two days ago, Jess heard that one of her “possibles” for uni, Cardiff University, was having an open day so prospective students can go and see what the facilities are, meet some of the staff, the usual meet and greet thing. 

We all live in Maidenhead, Berkshire, which is, according to Google, 125 miles away along the M4.

Being that my sis-in-law is a busy person who works, and has my nephew at home too, and my bro-in-law is currently not well enough to make the journey by car, Jess decided to look up the train times for her journey.

This being the start of times when Jess wont have her Mum on her doorstep with her own personal taxi service (as she has now!), it was a great idea to get her more used to the independence that uni will bring her.

She hasn’t been to a uni tour before, so, to be sensible, she wanted an open ticket, to come back the same time but not be effected by peak and off peak services. 

Do you know how much First Great Western wanted to charge her? This is a young girl, staying within the UK, for a one day ticket, standard class, where she wasn’t even guaranteed a seat.


*Picks self up from floor

What makes it laughable is, should Jess want to go off, like most teens seem to, to Malaga, in Spain a whole different country, with an open return ticket, it would cost just £81 to do so.

So, we can go hop on a plane to a different country, but to get two hours from where we live costs us £178?

That, to me, is ridiculous. Even if Jess had of booked in advance, the cheapest ticket available to her would have been £120. 

Suffice to say, Jess decided to give the Cardiff viewing a miss. Which is terrible, that a teenage girl who wants to go off and become a doctor is hit with cost after cost at every turn.

Surely, as with uni students, this sort of journey should be discounted as long as the prospective student can prove their journey? We are all moaned at to let the train take the strain and use public transport to stop our roads being congested, but is it any wonder most people will take their car instead? My Sis-in-law reckons the petrol to make that journey would be £20, so in comparison that seems the far better option.

This is an Olympic year- why not bring down prices and attract more travel and tourism too.

The only Great Train Robbery I can see is the companies driving up prices and students, like Jess, missing out.

Know any other shocking fares? Let me know!