WRINKLED

There are not many things I really hate. OK, hate might be a bit strong but definitely loath with a passion. My own definition of loathing is something I don’t particularly enjoy and will avoid by all costs. The first of the two top despises is...; ironing; now this is probably not a shock to most people. The amount of people that I know, that like ironing, I can count on one hand! We’ll come back to the ironing! The other detest is … * drum role* shopping! Yes, I know it is totally unnatural for a woman to hate shopping. I am not a great fan of food shopping and any kind of shopping this time of year fills me with nothing but groans and moans. I don’t mind shoe shopping, yet I still have to be in the mood and right frame of mind for it.

Christmas shopping is once a year and I am thankful for on line shopping and reserve and collect options! They were made for me!

Now being a student of psychology I have come to know more and more about the human psyche. Some ideas of Freud and recent Psychological findings are known across the lands. For example the idea that, the trauma from our childhood, can affect us as adults. You do not need a degree to know this shit.

I do believe, and I am sure my brother will agree with me, that our united detestation for shopping is in fact, all mum’s fault! ( sorry mother) but it is true, hours and hours spent sitting in C&A’s in the Pentagon centre in Chatham. Filling the hours of hot, aching boredom was not so great back when we were kids.  The only fun we had was getting lost and causing our mum to have a conniption fit when she could not find us.

As we both got older our love for shop(lifting) got greater, no need to try it on, no need to line up and  no need pay for it, just grab and run ( please don’t try this at home) Why did we do this? Because we could and because we wanted to! I am not in any way condoning shoplifting, no no no. I am just telling you how it was. Honest! My brother and I met our fate in the end when we got arrested * cough* once or twice. Let’s just say we learnt our lesson. We didn’t get caught after that! As adults my brother and I share the same dislike to simply mooching around the shops. (Ahurgggguu)

Mum used to take us into town every Saturday and she would park behind Allders and we would both be praying for one, that we got something to eat from the baker’s oven and two; mum would not walk into the ladies dress shop. My brother and I would often pull a face at each other in hope she would plainly walk on by. Alas to our own horror (and my dad’s credit card) she never seemed to manage it!

More time sitting waiting for mother, oh and god forbid she buy an outfit that needed shoes, as then we would walk and walk and walk all around shoe shops to find a pair of shoes the exact same shade as the outfit – fun!

That reminds me, those canvassers in the street that used to stop people. My mum always got collared! Sometimes it benefited us kids as something free would often be given out.

Now back to the ironing (shudders) I stood recently ironing my son’s shirts for school. As he asked nicely that they are done. As I stood I thought about when I was a kid. I used to iron my dad’s work and golf shirts and I got paid 20p a shirt. Now how each parent chooses to parent is no business of mine. However, I do hate the idea that the soon to be teenager that I gave birth to, has ME ironing HIS shirts! I pay the boy pocket money; maybe he should either pay ME for ironing HIS shirts! Or he could wear them all wrinkled or learn to bloody well do it himself! There has to be a time where he should be responsible for his own desire to not be a smelly, scruffy smeghead? Or am I being a bitch?  Please send your answers on a postcard to me... thanks…

That concludes today’s mega rant.