summer Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

Creating the perfect summer wardrobe…..Or not.

Anna — Mon, 12 Jun 2017 05:00:18 +0000

We’ve just booked our Summer holiday….HOORAY! It was a bit of a faff to be honest, long story short; We were meant to go to Czech. Rory’s work plans didn’t oblige. Said work plans ensured the only time we could go away was the very first week of the school holidays. Everyone else in the world was better prepared than us and had booked nearly all the places. But we did it, we got decent flights and, hopefully, a lovely place to stay. Now I can look forward to making lists, planning plans, buying the children more shorts and sandals and checking how much better the weather is there than here (four times a day). It’s all gravy baby. Except not quite, it’s time to create the perfect summer wardrobe, which is never perfect. I need to buy a swimming costume. URGH. All the websites are telling me how to get beach ready and create the perfect summer look, but they’ve never met met and my body. We are non-conformist. Swimwear today is a joke, all the fashionable ones have bits cut out of them, not only does that make for a dodgy tan but there’s bulges popping out where they really shouldn’t. I’d look like someone cut the top off a sausage and squeezed. A scaffolding type swimming costume is all good and well, but that blubber has to go somewhere. There’s only two places it can go, up or down. Neither is a pleasant sight. Getting in to this firmer swimwear is a challenge in itself. I find myself hidden in the bathroom, this isn’t a task I need to undertake with Rory or my children bursting in. It’s warm. I start getting into the outfit and pulling it up. Due to it’s heavy duty nature it takes time and effort. It (I) gets warmer. It gets more difficult. It swiftly turns into the episode of Friends, you know, the one with Ross and the leather pants. I really don’t see what was wrong with the Victorian style bloomers and dress affair! I’d proper rock that look. By the time I’m all squeezed in, I’m feeling pretty fragile and not much in the mood to parade the promenade or swim. Instead I whack a sarong on and breeze along the shore (looking like an escaped wedding marquee). Why can’t ‘they’ just make a comfy and flattering swimsuit that maybe sucks the flob away? I hate buying swimwear. In fact no. I hate buying clothes full stop. I always consider myself a trendy, hip, down with the yoof sort then I look into a mirror and realise it’s all in my head. As a ‘larger’ lady pushing middle age I just don’t know what I’m meant to wear these days without looking like a twat. The Perfect Summer Wardrobe I’m a girl with simple tastes. I love a nice vintage frock, unfortunately they aren’t cheap and Seth doesn’t allow for pretty clothes and shoes, using me as a human tissue. And I’m OK with skinny jeans but I like a long top with sleeves. These modern day clothes just aren’t practical for a lady of lump like myself. Dresses are either all super short or to the ankle. I have fat knees so short isn’t a preferable choice and, as Rory kindly and frequently points out, I am short of leg and so maxi dresses look a bit odd on me. I also trip over them a lot/hoover them up. I oft wear a dress with jeans or leggings, which is fine, but these new modern day sleeves are a massive pain in the arse. You know the ones I’m on about, ‘cold shoulder’ sleeves, or sleeves with gaps. In essence, they’re actually a good idea, they cover the bingo wings a treat and provide a useful gap for breeze. BUT they always have this silly knotted thing which means wearing a cardigan is a no no as it creates a tiny, puny muscle effect. If dresses and tops don’t have these sleeves they tend to be ‘Bardot’ style, (no bra isn’t an option and shouldn’t be considered by anyone over 30 – you’re never as pert as you think), sleeveless or cap sleeved. That means I have to swealter in a cardigan and abstain from enthusiastic waving. Tops are so short as well, I need one that goes to my hips at least, I don’t need my midriff hanging out at any given opportunity, it all needs trussing up! So essentially. If, like me, you’re an overweight, middle-aged woman, it seems society wants us to wear only one uniform. Sensible ‘poplin’ style trousers – black or navy. A jersey t-shirt – bright pink. A cardigan – zipped. Walking shoes – the chunkier and duller the better. Although I’m trying to fight it with every essence of my being, I can feel I am being slowly but surely pushed into the realm of drab mumwear. Change is coming and I don’t like it. I’m off to buy some sensible trousers.

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Summertime, and the livin’ is easy….Unless you’re a parent.

Anna — Mon, 29 May 2017 05:00:02 +0000

For clarification, when I use the term ‘Summer’ in this post I mean it in the real summer sense, not the British sense! The back end of last week saw the temperature SOAR. It was 25 degrees at one point and positively GLORIOUS. It was so glorious I saw fit to chill my red wine and that only happens in extreme warm. I LOVE Summer. It’s my absolute favourite season. I like that the sky is blue, I like that the grass is green. I love hearing the birds sing, I love feeling the sun on my face and warming my soul. Lack of body confidence aside, life is always better when the sun shines. The adverts give us a Summer to aspire to. Leisurely strolls in the sunshine, kids looking at nature in awe, setting up the hammock in your perfectly manicured garden reading or eating al fresco. Apero with friends. Wearing light, floaty outfits looking cool and feeling comfy. Skin with a healthy glow and hair that is effortlessly shiny. Life is amazing, you feel amazing, you ARE amazing. These advertisers clearly aren’t parents. A summer walk with children isn’t a glorious stroll. It’s carrying bags full of snacks and entertainment. It’s sweaty little hands trying to prise themselves out of yours. Summer walks involve loitering in direct sunlight a little longer than you’d hoped. It’s stopping for drinks of water every few steps. It’s finding a nice spot under a tree and then spending the next hour chasing down your toddler who is determined to escape. It’s a wasp trying to get in the snacks. It’s the eldest complaining she isn’t allowed out of your site when her friends are. It’s having enough, gathering everything and everyone back up and lugging it all uphill ending up at home a big sweaty mess. The perfectly manicured garden is actually sloped, the grass is dying and there’s no outdoor seating. It’s not sitting in the sun reading books and relaxing. It’s ages filling the paddling pool (that has a deep end thanks to the slope). It’s providing ice lollies and drinks. It’s settling down to enjoy the sun while the children frolic in the paddling pool. It’s getting shouted at because when you put an ice lolly down in the paddling pool while you play, it melts. It’s getting an earful because there’s a leaf in the pool. It’s telling them repeatedly not to run and jump into the paddling pool because they’ll slip. It’s plucking them out because they ran and jumped and slipped. It’s getting a towel and heading inside after 20 minutes because ‘it’s a bit wet’ and ‘there’s water in my face’. A light and floaty summer outfit on me looks more like a wedding marquee has come loose and floated off on the breeze. They are also impractical when chasing children. You end up wrapped up in maxi dress and falling over or the smallest will wrap himself in it whilst you’re still wearing it. Light and floaty is also a lot more fabric to wipe hands, faces and noses on. Summer outfits are also light colours attracting more child led muck. Rather than light, floaty and cool I spend the summer months covered trying to hide my fat elbows, knees(seriously, who the hell has fat knees? Me is who) and bingo wings. Slowly cooking in dark colours because they’re more ‘flattering’. Teamed with the red glow I’m a catch. My skins healthy glow is actually a face full of freckles and a touch of sunburn. I am completely aware of the need for sun cream but sometimes by the time I’ve lathered the children and gathered up all their crap I completely forget. I know, I know I’m lax. As for the natural shine of lustre of my hair? Well it’s actually a big greasy mess, it’s grows a fantastic amount in the heat, but outwards instead of downwards. It ends up scraped back, my face is so huge it blends into my neck. My ‘Summer’ ready body (that’s not been summer ready since 2008) has birthed children. Yes, I bear the badges of creating life but, rightly or wrongly, I’m not comfy flashing my badges. I feel far from amazing. I still aspire to the summer sold to me in adverts and, given the temperatures of last week, it’s time for me to get back on a diet, trawl the internet looking for suitable and flattering clothes, get the wine in the fridge, find a nice bistro set and whack Ella on the stereo.

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It’s a tough job but someone has to do it. With pleasure.

Anna — Mon, 05 Sep 2016 09:17:00 +0000

The summer break is over. After a glorious week on the Cote D’Azur Rory is back at work, Aoife has just started Year 1 and it’s back to reality (booooo). There’s no other job, yes I referred to parenting as a job – If a job doesn’t get done, things go tits up and things fall apart. If parenting doesn’t get done things go tits up and things fall apart, though to be fair things generally go tits up when I’m on shift anyway. Anyway, I digress. There’s no other job where I would put up with my boss physically attacking me, screaming in my face, throwing my stuff, throwing everyone else’s stuff (I’m thinking dinner plates at the villa we rented last week) and making impossible demands. There’s certainly no other job where I would do it all for free on a 24 hr shift pattern. If most people were at work and their boss called them to the office and said Read this to me they might think Hmmm OK, this is a little odd but what the hey If the boss then stopped them mid-sentence and said NO, I need you to read these sections in a French accent, this bit sounding like a boy and this bit here like Woody from Toy Story They’d reply Heck no and start updating their CV. The CEO The President There’s only so much shit you can clean up from your toddlers back. So many headbutts you can handle. So many times your glasses can be ripped from your face or your hair can be pulled or you can be scratched. There’s only so much food you can have thrown at you or scrape from the walls or floor. There’s only so many times you can retrieve broken pieces of items you rather liked. There’s only so many times you can be summoned at 4 am to replace covers that are well within reach, or find teddies that are *right* there. There’s only so much you can handle before you ask yourself Why on earth did parenthood seem a good idea? Then I think about it and I realise there’s only so long I’ll be needed to do these things. There’s only so long a bedtime story will be required. There’s only so long a hand will need holding or a booboo need kissing. There’s only so long that I’ll be considered the fountain of all knowledge and the fixer of all things. There’s only so long a Mummy cuddle will make things better. There’s only so long that a trip to the cinema with me will seem like fun. There’s only so long they’ll want to holiday as a family. There’s only so long before they’ll feel they’re too old to need me. There’s only so long. My contract is temporary, I’ll be made redundant one day. And so I’ll remember this when I’m up to my eyes in one mess or another, when I feel like I’m just there to serve not as a human. I’ll remember that one day I’ll not be needed for anything, big or small. I’ll remember that although now I may feel insignificant sometimes, these jobs need doing and these processes need playing out and I actually AM of importance in my workplace. One day I’m going to be very sad to have retired. On a lighter note, we just spent a week in France. One evening we’d got Seth down to sleep at a reasonable time so went to sit outside. Aoife came out in her pyjamas and sat next to me. This is what it’s about. Sitting here, relaxing in the sun, enjoying the peace and chatting I tried hard not to laugh What would you like to chat about? Ummm the view? Those trees down there are lovely aren’t they? She’s perfect. Relaxing in the sun.

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