Rock Chick: Aftermath
'Back to square one then?' said the verger at the Sunday service following my rock-chick makeover. He surveyed my decorous wool dress with disappointment.
There was disappointment at school drop-off too, when I presented myself on the Monday in my bargain coat from Help the Aged. 'Tighter and brighter,' must be my mantra from now on, said one of the mothers, who advised me to embrace the heatwave with tube of Sun Shimmer Bronzer and diamante flipflops.
I sense, however, that my leopard-print adventure has done more that 18 months of parish cake-baking to enhance my standing at church and school. The coolest of the mothers who survey me know that, beneath my tweed cladding, lurks a temptress in Jimmy Choo shades.
The Vicar, glued to his laptop in his study, turned out not to be fine-tuning a sermon, but gazing with glee at my blog pictures. Clearly the Church of England craves a hymn to bling.
My daughter, still in shock at the brief realisation of her dreams, has ceased to nag me to be cool. And because she has stopped nagging me I now have more of an urge to please her.
I have agreed to grow my hair so that she can lend me her silver scrunchy. I have replaced my split Wilko wellies with a pair of Hunters so that she can lay claim to a mother with a designer label. I have splurged at the Boots cosmetic stands and ornamented my naked dressing table with a collection of facial aids.
And I have allowed her to choose my day-wear from the safe scope of my wardrobe.
It was my choice, not hers, to exile my hairiest tweed. I have glimpsed an alternative sartorial future which, if not leopard-printed, is daringly less woolly.
She and I have reached a restful compromise and I am relieved. Then, just as I am congratulating myself on my brighter, tighter future and restored family harmony, my mother rings. She and the 9-year-old have compared despairing notes on my body image and she approves of the targets for my transformation.
'So will you be showing your legs a bit more from now on?' she asks.
'Don't know. Maybe.'
'And you'll do something with your hair?'
'Don't know. Maybe'
'And will you be wearing make up?'
'No.'
'Not a bit of powder?'
'No.'
'Something round the eyes?'
'No'
There's a pause, then a sigh. 'Well,' she breathes at last, 'That is a disappointment.'
So - back to square one then!
Very many thanks to anyone who voted for me in the Brilliance in Blogging Awards. Thanks to you, I have made it as far as the Lit category shortlist. Any further prods to win me cyber-stardom would be hugely appreciated. Just click on the badge thingy above and then, I assume, the process becomes obvious. Oh, and if you have the energy to add to my nominations for the MADS awards by clicking the other icon I'll let you try on the leopard print!
There was disappointment at school drop-off too, when I presented myself on the Monday in my bargain coat from Help the Aged. 'Tighter and brighter,' must be my mantra from now on, said one of the mothers, who advised me to embrace the heatwave with tube of Sun Shimmer Bronzer and diamante flipflops.
I sense, however, that my leopard-print adventure has done more that 18 months of parish cake-baking to enhance my standing at church and school. The coolest of the mothers who survey me know that, beneath my tweed cladding, lurks a temptress in Jimmy Choo shades.
The Vicar, glued to his laptop in his study, turned out not to be fine-tuning a sermon, but gazing with glee at my blog pictures. Clearly the Church of England craves a hymn to bling.
My daughter, still in shock at the brief realisation of her dreams, has ceased to nag me to be cool. And because she has stopped nagging me I now have more of an urge to please her.
I have agreed to grow my hair so that she can lend me her silver scrunchy. I have replaced my split Wilko wellies with a pair of Hunters so that she can lay claim to a mother with a designer label. I have splurged at the Boots cosmetic stands and ornamented my naked dressing table with a collection of facial aids.
My comprehensive new make-up stash |
And I have allowed her to choose my day-wear from the safe scope of my wardrobe.
Before |
After |
It was my choice, not hers, to exile my hairiest tweed. I have glimpsed an alternative sartorial future which, if not leopard-printed, is daringly less woolly.
She and I have reached a restful compromise and I am relieved. Then, just as I am congratulating myself on my brighter, tighter future and restored family harmony, my mother rings. She and the 9-year-old have compared despairing notes on my body image and she approves of the targets for my transformation.
'So will you be showing your legs a bit more from now on?' she asks.
'Don't know. Maybe.'
'And you'll do something with your hair?'
'Don't know. Maybe'
'And will you be wearing make up?'
'No.'
'Not a bit of powder?'
'No.'
'Something round the eyes?'
'No'
There's a pause, then a sigh. 'Well,' she breathes at last, 'That is a disappointment.'
So - back to square one then!
Very many thanks to anyone who voted for me in the Brilliance in Blogging Awards. Thanks to you, I have made it as far as the Lit category shortlist. Any further prods to win me cyber-stardom would be hugely appreciated. Just click on the badge thingy above and then, I assume, the process becomes obvious. Oh, and if you have the energy to add to my nominations for the MADS awards by clicking the other icon I'll let you try on the leopard print!
My missus says what about that barely-there, very expensive, ultra-subtle face powder foundation stuff she bought you?
ReplyDeletePS Isn't that the skirt I bought you to go with your long boots???!
ReplyDeleteNo, it just looks similar. I feel very strongly about the skirt you have me. And I cherish your wife's powder compact so dearly that I look at it regularly when I'm shaving my chin.
DeleteWhat an attractive lady you are! I loved this line 'Clearly the Church of England craves a hymn to bling' - that made me laugh!
ReplyDeleteWell, what a lovely thing to say! Thank you.
DeleteI hope you didn't write that you shave your chin... It grows back all bristly and even tougher. Wax the buggers before you go to bed or pluck them out if they dig their little rooty heels in.
ReplyDeleteYou look very trendy in the After pic.
Now you tell me! My chin bristles could burst a party balloon.
DeleteTop tip from Sarah there -eh? She lives in France, you know, so could probably give us all lessons, but we don't want to be giving you palpitations by going too far now, do we? I have noticed people take us more seriously when we make more of an effort and that can be an inspiration in itself! Well done you, but reaching a restful compromise!
ReplyDeleteActually, it's not as restful as I though. My small mentor scrutinises my every sartorial move. Am exhausted (and chilly without my thermals)!
DeleteI'm not sure about the leopard print but if I had a figure like yours I'd show it off.
ReplyDeleteI do the your hair back off your face, you're too attractive to hide behind 'curtains', a word my Mother used to describe hair over the face.
Not too bright or too tight should appease everyone.
For you I'll grow it and tie it!
DeleteIt should read..I do like your hair back off your face.
ReplyDeleteI think you look fab both before and after.
ReplyDeleteSometimes there is no pleasing mothers.
Himself and I now habe a running bet as to how many minutes it will take mine on seeing me to ask when I am getting my fringe cut.
I am 33.
Gosh, I'm pretty sure I remember being 33 once!
DeleteSnap! Well, sort of.
DeleteI am 33 next month.
I love how the vicar is ogling your blog pictures! What are husbands for! It is also nice to know your daughter will be a bit easier on you, with of course the exception of the make-up.
ReplyDeleteWon't last! Actually, I'm a bit uneasy about how much the Vicar loves the leopard print!
DeletePhew! I thought the pick-axe might disappear from the 'after' picture. Good to see it very much in evidence.
ReplyDeleteYou don't need to be a rock chick, y'know. You look lovely as you are :)
Thank you, my dear. A girl's gotta pickaxe, rockchick or no!
DeleteYou've gone all Barbara Good in the after picture. You look gorge love. Before and after. Erm, on another subject, can I just say that I have done myself an injury doing primary school level gymnastics in my sitting room. I hold you responsible.
ReplyDeleteOh blimey! Was that the forward roll? So where's the photo to prove your attempt?
ReplyDeleteTop stuff there Matron! You look great in that 'after' pic.
ReplyDeleteThe ground and the side of that shed/building blend in to each other - it sort of looks like you are lying flat on the ground.
It does, doesn't it. Am so wedded to the oickaxe I never wielded a rake to get rid of the dead leaves round the garage.
DeleteThe after look may get you a contact from Pickaxe Weekly (or it would if I hadn't just made it up). Brilliant posts.
ReplyDeleteThank you. It's my dream to make a career out of my pickaxe!
DeleteNo matter if some one searches for his necessary thing, thus he/she desires to be available that in detail, so that thing is maintained over
ReplyDeletehere.
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