JOHN F. KENNEDY and MELISSA ETHERIDGE
Somebody bring me some water….
My current single mother desperado ‘he will sweep me away and pay for my children to have a good life’ crush is the French newsreader Laurent Delahousse. Laurent has a Harry Handsome tan and the same hair my big brother had in 1977, the flicky, fluffy male equivalent of Farrah Fawcett’s big do in the original Charlie’s Angels. I watch him on SBS in the mornings. My schoolgirl French is way too slow to understand every word he is saying but he is so good looking (in a Zoolander way) that I can’t help it. I love him and I want him bad. Who said French men were well dressed but not so hot? Laurent’s hair is magnificent, it looks like a wig. J’aime Laurent, vous êtes très joli.
So I had a free pass for two weeks’ worth of yoga with one of the best yoga teachers in the country if not the world, it was a beautiful day, I was child free and I could walk to the yoga school in 15 minutes. Did I worship at the temple that is my body? No, I stayed home and read about vajazzling on the internet. Yes, jewels for vaginas. These women have WAY too much time on their hands. Or way too much vagina on their hands.
Apparently the trend exploded in the US when Jennifer Love Hewitt announced that she Vajazzles regularly to feel good about her private parts. I work in hospitals with sick and dying children. Please don’t tell me Jennifer Love Hewitt that you have time to vajazzle. Tell me you help injured puppies, or look after your elderly neighbour. JLH you are a moron.
I must explain that I am a self-employed, over-committed single mother of three children with no desire to even talk to a man. I don’t care at this point if I ever have sex again. So maybe vajazzling would have wet my whistle (as it were) when I was an over-sexed single, childless commitment-phobe 20 something. But somehow I don’t think so.
Ladies, please. Can we stop getting distracted by stupid so-called beauty treatments and get out and do some good in the world instead? In Joplin, USA, Christchurch, New Zealand and Sendai, Japan there are people who could really use our help. Please?
Teenagers are like Queensland, beautiful one day, a nightmare the next.
On Saturday my 14 year daughter glanced down at her floor-drobe. She had nothing to wear but clothes that were fashionable at breakfast time. All this while I turn into an aging cougar. Except that I am the anti-cougar, the tracksuit pants wearing tragedy in tired trainers, wishing I had some energy left over from mothering and working to desire a makeover.
This week teenage beast cleaned up her floor-drobe and turned into an interior design fascist. She wants me to be the queen of minimalism on a single mother budget. If her sisters place so much as a Barbie on the floor she screams.
She is also a control freak about the music we listen to at home. I mention the Bee Gees and she looked blank. I said,
“Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth there were three brothers who wore tight white pants and hair-drier-fluffy-wind-blown hair singing falsetto disco hits.”
“Shit mum, they sound Palaeolithic.” There is no one more hip than a teenager and no one who has ever suffered more.
So I dedicate this song to her. Whether you’re a mother or whether you’re a brother…..