Mid-Life Crisis

by T. Jessop

  So to be deemed having an eating disorder, hurts. Especially when you seek support for ways to gain weight; nothing to do with vanity, just simply because being small made me feel tired, weak, washed out, and caught every bug and germ that got passed about. The responses: ‘Are you taking the piss?’, ‘Perhaps you need professional help’, ‘Admitting there’s a problem is a good start’…the list is endless. Did I respond like that when they went on a diet? No, I was supportive, encouraging, considerate. Some say it’s the stress of the dieting that makes them treat you like that. Nah, it isn’t. If the same comments had been made by a larger-built friend or relative, they would have been appreciated. I’ve now resigned myself to not get pulled into these conversations anymore: if someone says they’re on a diet I just avoid them. Much easier, because in these situations us smaller peeps can’t even defend ourselves from the spite.

  Overweight people are accused of self-infliction: in other words, they’re just greedy, And for fear of getting lynched, I think some are, the same as there are skinny people who starve themselves on purpose. There is a regular at the bakers who is huge and will tell anyone she has serious health issues because of her weight, yet she will regularly order a Cornish pasty, two sausage rolls, a bacon bap and a fresh cream scone, always followed up with, ‘Oh and a Diet Coke. ‘No need: this is the woman whose leggings are stretched so tight over her bottom half you could read the label on the inside; which, much to my amusement, says ‘One size fits all’. Any bigger and she’ll end up one of them who can’t even get out of bed.

  WTF? They didn’t get that size overnight; the signs were clearly there long before. How do they afford the large amounts of food? They obviously don’t work. And most importantly, who’s feeding them? Isn’t that abuse? Cos without someone bringing the food to where the person lay, they would go without. One story I read, the husband in this case said it was out of love; she would cry and beg, saying she was hungry. Was he then not killing her with kindness?.A lot of big people will say, ‘I like being like this, I feel comfortable with myself.’ Cool, then why look at me when we pass in a swimming pool, like I’m the scourge of society? Whenever I see someone who is large I pass no judgement, I don’t automatically presume they’ve got no self-control over their consumption. So don’t look at me and think I have an eating disorder; we have more in common than we think.

  Wednesday 13th June 2014

  Had Chris on the phone again last night insisting the peeping tom was back. Another pointless search by Joe who now is convinced Chris is definitely off her nut.

  Went round Andy’s this afternoon. Sam’s hamster not looking none too clever. I’ve phoned the vets and I will take him tomorrow morning.

  Hang on! Why me?

  Thursday 14th June 2014

  Penny and Mark’s anniversary.

  Vet 8.45am hamster.

  Organised a funeral today. Joe dug the hole, I was pall bearer and vicar. Sam’s beloved hamster Bucky has passed away after six years, quite a feat: they usually snuff it within three. In the rain we stood, the grandchildren reciting the Lord’s Prayer, me and Joe trying not to snicker. Turns out poor Bucky had a tumour so we’d had to have him put to sleep. Sam had said he didn’t want me to bring the body home, so the vet disposed of him. By mid-afternoon the child has a breakdown, declaring we must give Bucky a proper funeral, so we did what all decent grandparents do and lied, said we got the body and here he was already wrapped and sealed in a make shift but, most importantly, child-proof coffin (shoebox covered in large amounts of Sellotape).This was the best-attended funeral for a hamster-sized stone, may it rest in peace. xx

  Julie was quite miffed that were so quick to judge her and proceeded to point out that she would at least be upfront with what she’d done. Lying to babies: shocking! And it’s gonna cost me to keep her from telling the kids when they’re older. My only defence, that I do what I do outta love. Will admit it was quite low, and I do feel slight pang of guilt. Will pay hush money, Julie can name her price as long as it has nothing to do with my husband. Elizabeth, although she despises lying (ha ha, yeah, OK), agreed that on this occasion lying was the right thing to do.

  Friday 15th June 2014

  Joe has fitted a camera outside Chris’s back garden after she called again and this time held the phone to her window, and I could hear the spine-chilling grunting and groaning. Poor Chris, even her own sister thought it was all in her head; I feel really bad. The police have been informed and have said as soon as she hears anything to call, and they will send assistance immediately. How creepy.

  Sunday 17th June 2014

  Father’s Day.

  Had a shit day yesterday, literally. Someone had walked dog crap through the house. When I say ‘someone ‘I can safely narrow that down to someone with testicles, as women look where they’re walking.

  For Father’s Day, and to make up for dragging Joe out of bed several times because of her peeping tom, Chris invited us to dinner. All was going well until she pricked the chicken and it exploded, I swear this family is cursed, Hmm, not whole family, just Christine.

  Monday 18th June 2014

  Chris’s pervert was caught tonight. Having called us, then the police, we all arrived at the same time. There were three armed officers who crept round the back, and on their order the garden was flooded with light from the helicopter hovering overhead. Spotlighted and with three assault rifles pointed at them sat two hedgehogs, humping.

  Tuesday 19th June 2014

  Connor’s class assembly 9am.

  Happily attended Connor’s class assembly this morning. The head teacher made an announcement: ‘Would the parents of a certain pupil refrain them from telling the other children that two ladybirds stuck together are not sexing each other up. ‘Like many other mums and Nan’s in attendance, me and Jessica stifled a snicker until Connor stands up (still on stage) and shouts ‘That’s me!’, whilst frantically waving at us. Most definitely feel Julie had something to do with this. Not that I think Connor needs any encouragement, as he does just fine under his own steam, love him.

  Wednesday 20th June 2014

  Hairdresser 5pm.

  Ooh, Suzanne rang me last night. She’d spent Monday night at the Irish Bar on Broad Street, reckons she’d met the man of her dreams until he opened his mouth and his breath nearly knocked her over. Lol, why is it when someone mentions breath you have to fight the urge to breath into your palm and check your own. That’s what’s frightening about halitosis: you’ll be the last to know. Let’s face it, there’s no nice or compassionate way to tell someone. Hmm, unless they’re your least favourite person, then I’m sure you’d relish the idea of telling them.

  Thankfully the people closest to me don’t have the breath of a thousand camels; as awful as it would be to wrap them and myself in embarrassment, I would tell them, on the quiet, or at worst leave them an anonymous note. Surely no one would let them go about their lives always wondering why others avoid conversations and normal social interaction with them.

  Failing that, if you can’t face speaking up to someone you care deeply about yourself, borrow a small child from a relative or friend and force ‘the stinky one’ to interact with said child. I guarantee the child will sort it, Approx four or five years old, they don’t beat around the bush, they’ll say it straight: ‘Your breath smells. ‘This should be enough for the person in question to get it checked out.

  Suzanne said it weren’t the odour left by food or even smoking. Nah, them smells usually vanish with a good brush of the teeth. We’re talking about the tear-jerking, throat-tightening waft that could strip paint, lol.

  Peter from the office two floors up from Julie’s office got reprimanded when his colleagues reported him to personnel that after travelling up several floors in a lift with him and his breath, which they said had taken over the entire air capacity, they were not only distressed but they actually felt they had been assaulted.

&
nbsp; Poor bloke, but how funny!

  Saturday 23rd June 2014

  Chloe arrived at her mum’s yesterday and got to mine around four. Girls’ night was pretty low key as we had no Tina as she and Mark are still on safari in Africa, and Penny and Mark have taken the kids to Devon. Julie said she’d spoken to Elizabeth and that she and Arthur were at a tennis tournament at the Batemans estate. Guessing Liz hasn’t told Julie about Rico; as for the Embryo, I hope she shows some discretion. Julie has jetted off to Jersey with Charles this morning. Err, hello, why am I the only person not on holiday?

  Chloe’s staying till Sunday. We did consider popping round Chris’s today until Jo said she had Abigail and Virgil for the day, so we’ve taken up Andy and Jess’s offer of lunch at theirs.

  Connor pushed Jessica to the limits at lunch today; he couldn’t get his own way and declared he was leaving home. I reassured Jessica they all have these paddy’s at this age, and best not to bite his bait, so together we calmly watched, as it was kinda cute to watch a five-year-old indignantly pack his bag. Playing along, I said he couldn’t take his toys with him cos I’d bought them. His head spun like The Exorcist and he screamed, ‘Santa bought them, not you!’ Joe intervened in the nick of time as I was about to yell back, ‘I was Santa, the Easter Bunny and the fucking Tooth Fairy, ya little ingrate!’

  Note to self: Only write ‘From Santa’ on one of the Christmas pressies.

  Chloe laughed her arse off, she reckons Connor’s just like me. Don’t know what she means (fluttering of eyelids, sickly smile). xx

  Sunday 24th June 2014

  Thought I had an emergency on me hands this morning: I turned over in bed and thought I saw a hair sticking out of Joe’s back. Freaked me right out. Dirty ears being the most repulsive thing in the universe is followed by back hair. Julie always goes one step further, liking her men smooth and hairless all over. Mate, as if the giblets aint ugly enough, she wants them looking like a shell-less tortoise. Hairless may be her preference, but let’s not kid ourselves here: Julie takes on all comers.

  After dropping Chloe at the station, me and Joe picked up Chris and went to the Sunday market where Joe spotted and bought Sam a pogo stick.

  Monday 25th June 2014

  Betty 86th birthday.

  Penny and Julie had lunch at their mum’s for the Nan’s birthday, Julie got to mine about four, and so began a very shit day. We have just got back from Accident and Emergency with me sporting a temporary cast on my right arm, as I have broken my bloody wrist.

  So embarrassing. I was gonna tell the doctors how I’d been injured saving the cat from a 70 foot tree when Joe whipped past me and informed them loudly how I couldn’t refuse the challenge when he’d said I couldn’t bounce at least five jumps on Sam’s pogo stick (he being extremely talented on said stick).So’s not to be outdone, by him, up I climbed and managed four really pathetic jumps and landed on the concrete. The pain was horrendous, within half an hour me arm was double the size, so having endured four hours of everyone from nurses to radiologists taking the piss I’m now home feeling sorry for myself. Worse than the pain is the fact that Joe was right, and is better than me on the poxy thing. Lectured by Julie (with a smirk) that I should learn to rise above such challenges. Then, both of them having a good laugh at my expense, she then demonstrated that even she can do a good five minutes on a pogo, in heels. Yeah, wonder where she learnt that trick. xx

  Just got a text from Chloe: ‘Just heard the news, lmfao.’ Yeah, cheers, pal.

  Roll on four weeks.

  Tuesday 26th June 2014

  Hospital 9.30am.

  Back to hospital this morning, endured yet more laughter from medical staff, it seems I have broken wrist in such a stupid place the X-ray isn’t clear enough for them to set it in plaster: if they do, it will lead to re-breaking it at a later date. I don’t think so.

  Tomorrow they’re sending me to be injected with radioactive substance that will then show a clearer picture on a special scanner. Because I’ll be nuclear I’m not allowed near small children, so hubby not allowed near me, lol.

  Due to this morning’s stress I have again found myself in possession of 26 new pairs of knickers ‒ on sale mind ya. They will be put in the drawer with the other 200 pairs I haven’t worn yet. We need many for many occasions: comfy, hit by a bus, and seductive. That’s the best excuse I’ve got for this fetish.

  Wednesday 27th June 2014

  Nuclear injection 10am.

  Lunch with Chris 12pm.

  Procedure worked. I am now sporting a bright yellow cast, with the warning it will itch like mad and under no circumstances am I to shove things up it to scratch. Ooo err Mrs.

  Chris cancelled lunch date with me: she don’t like the sound of radiation, doesn’t believe me that the cast was yellow before it was attached to me. She’s gonna ring the NHS helpline: she wants to know if she should be concerned for although she loves me dearly it’s not enough to have her hair fall out being in my company. Then the stupid cow said, ‘I know, why don’t you just paint a red cross on the front door?’Can’t believe I had to explain to the div that a red cross was for the plague, not radioactivity. Chris paused, gasped inwards, and screamed ‘You have the plague? OMG I told you that pet rat of Leigh’s didn’t look right!’Insistent that I should have it put to sleep. Of course it didn’t look right, it’s a bleeding gerbil. Der!

  Thursday 28th June 2014

  Andy’s 25th birthday.

  Dentist 9am.

  Browsing a magazine at the dentists today I read an article that said 99% of adults confessed to having masturbated at some time. Who did they ask? Did this include women? I’ve never met a female whose owned up to it: sex aids, yes; but hands, no. Even blokes I could count on one hand it’s not something you’d admit to your best mate, so surely you’re not gonna tell some dude taking a survey. No, I daren’t ask Julie, too much information and all that, no!

  If these stats are accurate then let’s hope they don’t all decide to have a go at the same time or the earth really is gonna move. It went on to say that marriages have broken down because of it, where the wife has taken it personal: she has felt that she must be failing in the sexual satisfaction department; or because the bloke does it so much he now can’t get it up for her. Someone I knew welcomed this scenario with the opinion it saved her the job.

  Myths surrounding masturbation include going blind will give you acne, make you sterile, and my favourite: you’ll get hairy palms. My guess is these were all started by mothers.

  Me and Joe babysitting as Andy and Jess are going out to celebrate.

  School reunion tomorrow night

  Friday 29th June 2014

  School reunion 7pm.

  Just got back from Chris’s. Got the phone call at 5.30 this morning, she was hysterical. I rushed over there in a panic, lucky I never rang an ambulance on route, there was no blood or broken bones, but… nits!

  Two nits and one flea, to be exact.

  Her only saving grace for scaring me half to death was that her reaction was quite normal. Good God, we have something in common.

  Let’s be honest, someone only has to mention their kids may have nits and it’ll send a ripple of disgust and horror through us mums. The first time Andy got them I rang Nan in tears, telling her I was a skank. When she’d finished laughing she came round armed with conditioner and a comb and de-flead him. We all get told that having nits don’t mean you’re a dirty person, but that goes out the window when ya see them on your child’s head, evil-looking little bastards (fleas, not kids; hmm, actually, both). Itching just thinking about them. My heart goes out to ‘Nitty Nora’: every school’s got one. These poor kids are running alive with them and the parents don’t seem to do anything about it. That amount wouldn’t be just itchy it would be dementing. Leigh had a Nora in her class: she was so riddled you could see them running over the hair. Theresa, being discre
et but still wanting to highlight the fact, said, ‘I think you’ve got something in your hair. ‘To which the little girl replied, ‘It’s just nits. ‘The mother said she refuses to deal with it, as what’s the point, she’ll only get them again. Now that’s a skank.

  While that girl was still in school all our girls had their hair soaked with conditioner and pulled into pony tails, which works. Because of kids like these the rest of us were the ones constantly de-fleaing our kids. Several of us mums confronted the head teacher, only to be told they couldn’t suspend the child pending removal of parasites; neither could they insist the parent treats the child as this is discrimination. What bollocks, especially when Theresa said she would keep her daughter home until this was sorted and got told she could be prosecuted for intentional truancy. World’s gone mad. Forget about how we feel for a minute, what about Nitty Nora? Nits has got the same effect as leprosy: left untreated the child will be alienated by everyone in the playground, scratched from all party invites, and will miss out on vital social interaction; and let’s be honest, there’s no one as cold or less forgiving as primary school kids. From experience most of the spitefulness that comes from kids, mouths came via their own parents, who are frightened of being whispered about. Believe me, little kids need no help throwing petrol on fires. Yeah, Elizabeth. xx