It's official. It's winter. The winter coat has made an appearance, I can't be bothered to shave my legs and I'm already starting to suffer the annoyance of tights (or hose for our American readers). Is is just me or is it a universal complaint that the crotch on a pair of tights always ends up halfway down the thighs by midday? And there's nothing less attractive than a thirty-something woman stopping in the street to hoist up their gusset.
I don't suit winter. I don't suit summer much either (mozzie bites, sunburn, heat rash, frizzy hair) but winter is definately the worst. My face is a mottled grey and the skin on my body has dandruff, partly a loud protest about the shock of central heating and partly because I'm too tired to exfoliate. At least I can cover up from neck to toe.
I'm always jealous of women who have lovely smooth skin all year round. The type that actively embraces the Christmas party season with a tiny black sleeveless dress and no trace of chicken-skin. Is this a natural blessing or do they have to work at it? Do they spend every waking hour guzzling skin-smoothing oily fish and sandpapering the exposed bits of flesh to make themselves picture perfect? I hope so or it might tip me into a seriously indulgent depression.
Then there's dressing the kids. Summer dressing is easy. You throw them into a sundress, pop a hat on and strap their feet into sandals. Nice and simple. In winter it takes at least three times as long because the kids have to bundled up like Easkimos. The multiple layers are driving me crazy, especially as Firstborn now has to be wrestled into school uniform every morning, an orgy of nylon topped off with a choke-inducing tie. Then there are the tights, the blazer, the coat and the beret, and she still grumbles that she's cold all the way to school. Meanwhile, the Small(er) One has a hatred of anything on her feet which means at least two tantrums every morning because her "toes are all twisty". I think I'm going to have to move to Fiji.
So, yes, I'm feeling rather gloomy. The only solution is a large glass of red wine, a huge piece of chocolate and to beat an early retreat to bed.
I don't suit winter. I don't suit summer much either (mozzie bites, sunburn, heat rash, frizzy hair) but winter is definately the worst. My face is a mottled grey and the skin on my body has dandruff, partly a loud protest about the shock of central heating and partly because I'm too tired to exfoliate. At least I can cover up from neck to toe.
I'm always jealous of women who have lovely smooth skin all year round. The type that actively embraces the Christmas party season with a tiny black sleeveless dress and no trace of chicken-skin. Is this a natural blessing or do they have to work at it? Do they spend every waking hour guzzling skin-smoothing oily fish and sandpapering the exposed bits of flesh to make themselves picture perfect? I hope so or it might tip me into a seriously indulgent depression.
Then there's dressing the kids. Summer dressing is easy. You throw them into a sundress, pop a hat on and strap their feet into sandals. Nice and simple. In winter it takes at least three times as long because the kids have to bundled up like Easkimos. The multiple layers are driving me crazy, especially as Firstborn now has to be wrestled into school uniform every morning, an orgy of nylon topped off with a choke-inducing tie. Then there are the tights, the blazer, the coat and the beret, and she still grumbles that she's cold all the way to school. Meanwhile, the Small(er) One has a hatred of anything on her feet which means at least two tantrums every morning because her "toes are all twisty". I think I'm going to have to move to Fiji.
So, yes, I'm feeling rather gloomy. The only solution is a large glass of red wine, a huge piece of chocolate and to beat an early retreat to bed.
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