Conversation with a wedding dress

If I could talk to my wedding dress I'd sigh and say: "Why don't you fit me anymore?" To which it would reply: "One word: CAKE."

And then I would get quite grumpy and sulky because I don't like to be reminded that it's my own fault I'm a chubster. I prefer to think there was some sort of weird invasion of the body snatchers thing going on. In other words, I'm delusional. 

Of course you have to pretend dresses can talk for this scenario. Perhaps it would be helpful for me if all my clothes COULD talk. They would give me a stern lecture about my love of cakies. Then again, they already do this without the need for words. Every time I try to ease my pants or top over my expanding belly, the warning is whispered. And I ignore it. Because CAKE. Sigh. 

But getting back to my wedding dress. I LOVE my wedding dress. It was a very traditional, prim dress with a high neckline, long sleeves and a train. There were pearl buttons on the sleeves and back. It was ivory, even though it appears to look white in photos. This dress was made for me by my mum from a Vogue pattern. For this reason it's very special to me. Years later, my aunt made a christening gown for my son with remnants from my wedding gown. 

I look back at the woman in the photos and think about how young and naive she was. Fast forward almost 21 years and this dress would look quite ridiculous on me. Especially since I could only wear it on one leg. It's actually a good thing that we can't see into the future. If I had known I what was before me perhaps I would have ran shrieking from the church a la Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride.

No, there's nothing wrong with my marriage. But to say that Mickey Blue Eyes and I have certainly been through the whole 'for better or worse' and 'in sickness and in health' thing would be putting it mildly. I'm still waiting for the richer part of 'for richer or poorer'. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Anyway, I was going to say that I'm not really sure why I had such traditional ideas about my wedding dress. I think what I wanted was some sort of Anne Of Green Gables theme, like THIS. However, Mickey Blue Eyes might have thought I was nuts and not married me. I waited until after our vows to bring out the crazy. OOPS. Too late! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Here is the exact Vogue pattern that my Mum used. I'm pretty certain it's that one, anyway.

We were married in a church. I'm not sure why I wanted to get married in a church, considering that I never attend church whatsoever.  I didn't even go to church as a child. In fact, I don't even believe in God. Weird.

This was a dress I have only worn once. It would look a bit odd if I wore it to go shopping. Although if it actually fit me, I'd would just BECAUSE I COULD. Not possible.

As well as feeling beautiful in the gown, I felt calm and serene. There were no wedding jitters for me on this day in 1995. Or the 'olden days' as our boys refer to it.

For this post I believe I should let the photos speak for themselves. These two are my favourites because they are just candid and not posed. 

I feel wistful and weird thinking about this dress. Life has been a bit of a struggle in the past year and I suppose I look back at those innocent times with more than a bit of nostalgia. It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I want to say.

My wedding dress is still hanging in a wardrobe at my parents house. I haven't looked at it in a long time. Our 21st wedding anniversary is coming up on November 11th. It was such a long time ago. One of my most vivid memories is the priest who married us saying: "You'll look back at photos and think 'we looked pretty good in those days!'" Yep. Even more so, because since I had cancer, my hair grew back strange and curly. I don't look like myself anymore. Sigh. 

It's certainly true that when you're planning a wedding you put a lot of thought and energy into things such as a dress that you will only wear for one day. Poof! The day's over and it's almost 21 years later. 

In the space of that 21 years we've faced infertility (bizarrely), then babies (luckily), the loss of a baby, cancer (both of us have had cancer), the loss of loved ones, and a million other boring and brilliant things. 

I don't have a daughter to give my dress to, and I suppose it's a bit dated now anyway. It was kind of dated even in 1995. 

But I still can't bear to part with it. I'll always love that dress. 

And I simply can't believe that we were not included on this cover:

RUDE! Of course, we're not celebrities. But we look exactly like Brangelina, so same thing really. 

I did mention I was delusional. 

What do you think about wedding dresses? Beautiful or baloney? 



Linking up for Conversations Over Coffee and IBOT. 

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When I'm Sad I...

It happens to everyone. The blues. The 'blahs'. I'm not talking about clinical depression. Just the ordinary ups and downs that everyone has from time to time.

I must confess it's been a bit of a hard old slog for the last year. Cancer and chemotherapy and radiation will do that to a person, strangely enough. I know! I'm supposed to be positive all the time! What am I like? 

When I'm busy being a sooky la la I do the following things:

General moping, pouting and sighing and 'blahing'. Yes, blahing is totally a verb. I do it all the time. Well, not all the time. Just every 28 days or so for a number of years, for some strange reason. 

There is a tendency for me to lose interest in stuff  that I like, such as blogging. It would be preferable if I lost interest in eating. This always seems to happen to characters in books and movies. They go through heartbreak or misfortune and are totally uninterested in food. Never happens to me. Which leads me to my next point...

I eat all my feelings. They taste suspiciously like cake. When they don't taste like cake, they taste like chocolate. Weird. 


As I have mentioned before, I'm not the world's greatest talker. Not even when I'm in a quite jovial mood. I know what you're thinking. But yes, it does happen. Its just that you might not notice due to my resting bitch face. 

So you can imagine my aversion to being verbal when I'm all morose and moody. Therefore if I don't answer the phone, or frantically indicate to Mickey Blue Eyes that I'm not here if he happens to answer the phone, don't take it personally. 

Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/survivingsanity/

All of social media and the entire world seems to be mocking me. The sensible thing to do would be to back away from the internet, but apparently I'm a masochist. 

However, I always manage to get myself out of my little rut. 

Here are some strategies I use:

• Watching stand up comedy on Youtube. 

• Watching my favourite feel good TV shows. I'm partial to a bit of Miranda at the moment. I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, but I quite like the goofiness. SUCH FUN! 

• Listening to music. A lot of people think that most Carpenters music is a bit sappy and miserable: "I'll say goodbye to love, no one ever cared if I should live or die..." and all that. Well, I guess they're right. But I'm weird, so it's still my happy place. Whatever works, I say. 

• Exercise, exercise, exercise! I haven't been as diligent with this one lately. A kick up the arse is desperately needed. Oftentimes it's hard to get motivated when I'm in the doldrums. Plus, I don't feel like leaving the house, because then I might have to actually talk or smile at people *shudders*. My strategy for this is to make myself exercise to a quick Youtube video for ten or fifteen minutes. 

• Write/scribble in journals (but offline because no one needs to read my moaning). In fact I'm kind of addicted to notebooks and journals. This is my most recent one: 

• Patting my dog. I don't know why, but whenever I'm feeling sulky sensitive or need to unwind, some time with our resident pooch Cookie, always puts me in a better mood. This also works for my boys (except Mr 15, who isn't as much of a dog person). Apparently studies show that having a pet is good for your mental health. I'm far too lazy to go and do the actual research, but I'm pretty sure I've heard this. Look, just google it yourself, OKAY? HMPH.

• Cuddle my boys. Well, it's mainly the 7 year old who'll cuddle and occasionally Mr 12.  I better enjoy those cuddles because I don't know how much longer they'll last. Sigh. 

• Talk to someone. Yes, this is totally contradictory. I don't like talking. But sometimes even I have to force myself. It can be hard to find the right shrink (I always say shrink because I forget how to spell the proper word) or counselor that you feel comfortable with, but when you do it's helpful. As long as I don't have to do so (talk) all the time. 

• Wait it out. Remind yourself that it's just one of those days and it will pass. A 'blah' day.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. And even more blah.

Because BLAH.

Double blah.

Triple blah. 

Quadruple blah.

A billion blahs.

ALL. THE. BLAHS.

Karen Carpenter summed it up:

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothing is really wrong
Feeling like I don't belong

Blah, blah, blah something about rainy days (which DON'T get me down, oddly enough)

What I feel has come and gone before 
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about...

Yep, It does come and go. Just like all moods.

Me being awesome! 

• And when it does pass I put on some smart clothes and a bit of lippy and decide to be awesome. Because I am. So ner! 

Image credit: http://www.snorgtees.com/when-i-m-sad-i-stop-being-sad-and-be-awesome-instead

Right, that's it from me. I'm off to be awesome and listen Carpenters music. Nope. I don't have the blahs. That's just what I do in any mood. You know, just for something different! Later!

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

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Ten Things I Believe

Today I bring to you ten things I believe. A serious version and a silly one. Because I can never be all serious and deep and meaningful on this blog. Well, not very often, anyway. 


Ten Things I Believe: Serious Version 


1. Be kind. 

You know that internet meme about how everybody has an internal struggle you know nothing about? THAT. Basically just be kind. Don't be a dick also works here. 

2. Introverts are awesome! 

Well, duh. I'm super duper introverted and just look how awesome I am! 

3. When you're dead, you're dead.

I don't believe in God or heaven. I think it's the same as before you were born. You just don't exist anymore. You'd think this belief might give me some sense of urgency to do something with my life beyond EAT ALL THE CAKE. Apparently not. Oops.

Having said all of the above, I still reserve the right to believe in Emergency God. You know, when you're suddenly in a crisis and you start praying "Please god, let everything be okay..." There were certainly many times I prayed to a God I don't even believe in during my breast cancer experience. I just can't say 'journey'. 

4. Family is everything. I am so very lucky to have such a beautiful family and extended family. They mean the world to me. I LOVE them so much. And I'd also love them to leave me alone now and again. See point number 2. Ahem. 

5. You don't have to like or be liked by everyone.

It took me a while to figure this one out. Some people won't ever like you no matter what. You could give them a yacht and a million dollars and they still won't like you.  Although, if you want to test that theory I'm open to offers. I'd prefer a mansion and two million dollars, thanks. I promise I'll like you! Probably. 

6. You wouldn't worry about what others thought of you if you knew how seldom they did.

This one is courtesy of Dr Phil and fits in with the previous point. At least I got something out of hours of my life watching his show that I'll never get back. 

7. Happiness isn't the natural state for human beings a hundred percent of the time.

I read a book called The Happiness Trap by Russ Harris and it completely changed my way of thinking about happiness. Truthfully, happiness is just one of the gamut of emotions that everyone experiences during their lifetime. Nobody feels blissfully happy and contented every single second of every day, no matter what the highlight reels on their social media look like. 

8. What some one thinks of you is none of your business. Related: if  you happen to think my blog sucks I'd prefer not to know. Just click away...

Oh wait. Judging by the paltry amount of folk reading here, this is already happening. Sigh. 

9. I'm in no competition with no one.

This is yet another internet meme. But whatever works, right? This resonates with me. 

10. Letting go of the notion of having high self-esteem or self-confidence. 

This is another light-bulb moment courtesy of The Happiness Trap. The idea is that you stop judging yourself as a person. This is still something that I fall back into from time to time and have to keep reminding myself.  

Upon reflection it appears that I have gleaned a lot of wisdom from internet memes. Who said Facebook can't be educational and enlightening? 


Ten Things I Believe: Silly Version


1. Mornings suck.

I remember thinking that there should have actually been laws invented against getting up in the mornings before you were ready. That's how much my body protested against it. Mind you, I was having this thought in my late teens and early 20's. So you can imagine how eager I am to jump out of bed in my mid 40's. 

2. Cake should be the sixth food group.

Sure, it's fattening and terribly bad for you. Details!

3. Ditto chocolate.

4.  I believe in laughing at yourself and trying to see the funny side of stuff even when life is a tiny bit shit. 

5. There should be Carpenters music piped at a loud volume through every shopping centre and public place. Then every one else would vacate the premises in horror and this introvert would have it all to herself! Genius!

6. Weight should be like height. You get to your most healthy weight for your height and it stays there permanently no matter what you eat. Why didn't I design the human body? 

7. I believe in sleeping-in. 

This is pretty self-explanatory. See point number 1.

8. I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky...

Okay, not really. But I DO believe that's one of the most annoying songs EVER. Says the woman who can listen to Carpenters songs about birds suddenly appearing and every sha la la la ad nauseam. Ahem.

9. I believe there should be a dinner fairy. 

And a washing up fairy. And a housework fairy... And just fairies in general. And unicorns. Basically what I'm saying is I believe in wine. Shut up. 

  


10. I believe I am all believed out. I believe I need a lie down.

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

What do YOU believe? 

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What I Wear To Bed

Today it's time to answer the burning question on everyone's lips. 
I'm sure you've spent hours pondering this very thing. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep at night until you know this vital information:

What does Nesski wear to bed?  

Well, I won't keep you waiting any longer, dear people. It's time to reveal this important detail. Hold onto your tits because it's going to be RIVETING. GOB SMACKING, I tell you! Just simply ASTOUNDING. 

Admit it, it is slightly astounding that anyone would could write such balderdash and pass it off as blog fodder. But you're reading it, so what are you like? 

And truthfully I just wanted to use the word 'balderdash'. So I just found a way to slip it in there. It's a totally underrated, underused word in my honest opinion. Right up there with 'codswallop' and 'poppycock'. I'm quite fond of 'rigmarole', too.

Speaking of rigmarole, here's the revelation you couldn't care less about were waiting for:

I have a breathtaking array of sexy nightwear! Using 'sexy nightwear' in the sense of nanna nightgowns and comfortable pyjamas. Shut up. 

Side note: Incidentally is it pajamas or pyjamas? I'm totally confused about that. Every time I type pyjamas the red squiggly line appears. However, when you spell-check it, it highlighted it in yellow saying it's wrong and suggested pyjamas. So now I'm confused. But then, I'm always confused, so my point is???? Confusing. 

In summer, I wear the night gowns. In winter. it's fleecy pyjamas all the way! SO HAWT! Yeah, NOT.

Well actually, they do keep me quite warm. That's kind of the whole point.

Besides, Mr 7 assures me that I look nice in my pyjamas. Maybe I should start wearing them as day wear? Or maybe Mr 7 is a compulsive liar. Not sure. 

In winter I like to be covered as much as possible with lots of blankets all neatly pulled up to my chin. I even like the idea of weighted blanket, but they're hellishly expensive. 

I also like the idea of wearing a onsie. Except it seems like it might be a bit of a nuisance when you have to pee. Peeing seems to take up an inordinate amount of my time. Too much information? Oops, sorry. That was awkward. Moving on. 

To add to my classy and elegant look, I also wear a beautiful floral polar fleece dressing gown and ugg boots. Coupled with my now completely grey, curly steel wool hair, this certainly brings a whole new level to the word STUNNING. 

I can only offer my sincere apologies for making you so jealous. Related: in fact, I did end up dyeing my hair on Saturday. Again, Mr 7 told me I looked nice. Mickey Blue Eyes told me I looked 'butch'. HMPH. I'll show him whose butch! I'll punch him in the.... Oh wait... Ahem...

Anyway, getting back to my daggy pyjamas. Because let's face it, who doesn't want to get back into my pyjamas. I mean, uh... Now it's awkward again. 

Let us pause and then resume the awkward. 

Pregnant pause.

Not really sure how a pause can be pregnant, but I'm just building suspense for the next round of information you never needed to know about me. Okay, that'll do.

In the past I found the above combo to be an effective 
contraception. These days I don't have to worry about such piffle (another great word), because a) I had a tubal ligation years ago, and b) I'm now in menopause with thanks to chemotherapy. Fun. 

During in-between seasons, I am quite partial to those night shirt type of things with long sleeves. I still like something to cover my arms during the night, but not full on pyjamas because they would get too hot. This is quite thrilling and entertaining information. 

In other random and pointless news, whenever I am all rugged up in my pyjamas and in bed, I seem to have developed a really helpful habit of waking around 4am. I then proceed to lie there and over think about everything and nothing that has happened in my entire life, why I'm here and what is it all about and would it be easier to be a dog or an ant or something. Thinking, thinking, thinking, ruminating, pondering, wondering, musing, mulling all the muddled up, mingling, murky thoughts in my mad mind. Then it's time to get up. At which point I feel like I've been given a dose of anaesthetic or the shit that killed Michael Jackson. Helpful. 

Another thing that occurs to me: existing is exhausting. 

I would try saying that really fast several times, preferably after a wine or two, but I CAN'T BE BOTHERED. See above. Which brings to me to my favourite hobby. See below. 

Well that is quite enough awkward details from me for one day.

No wait. One more thing: I am off to have my tits squashed. Afterwards I will need a good lie down. I will be wearing pyjamas. 

The end.


Linking up for I Must Confess

What do you wear to bed?

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Best Birthday Ever

It's time to tell you about my best birthday EVER.

The thing is, they're all pretty good because they all involve CAKE.

You knew I was going to say that, didn't you?

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/161637074101411447/

My birthdays as a child were usually fairly low key affairs, as far as I can remember. First of all, my birthday is January 15th, so it was always right in the middle of school holidays. This meant a lot kids would have been away on holidays. Fortunately, I wasn't fussed about parties, anyway. I always disliked being the centre of attention. I just wanted to be the person in the corner silently stuffing my face with cakies and chocolate crackles.

I remember my 21st, my 30th and my 40th.

Me and my Mum at my 21st. 

For my 21st I had one of those classy backyard parties.  However, I froze in front of all my family and friends. Okay, friend. I think I had at least one. All eyes were upon me. Nobody had told me about this part of the proceedings. Apparently I was supposed to make a speech. I felt really embarrassed and stupid for the rest of the evening. But then there was cake, so it was all good. Cake fixes everything. Sort of. Until it doesn't... Details. 

Fast forward nine years. At my 30th birthday, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I was up the duff. In the pudding club. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. 

30 and fabulous! And knocked up. 

There I am. Up the duff and unaware. Tragically I appear to be in much better shape even in my expectant state, than I am now. Weird.  Now I'm pregnant with a cake baby. Shut up.

At my 40th birthday the star of the proceedings was indeed the CAKE. LOOK at it. This decadent and delicious creation was made by my Mum who is a freaking culinary GENIUS. 


My mum always says that the only birthday you should worry about is the one you don't have. Well, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be worrying about it because you'd be slightly dead.

I must confess this year my birthday was just a teensy bit shitty. I began chemotherapy just two days before. Somehow I niavely thought I would just go about my life as usual. I made plans to head out for lunch with my family. Yeah, right. I ended up in bed feeling rather horrid. So next January I have to make up for that. I mean, I still had cake. I wasn't DEAD. That's the only thing that will stop me. Ahem. 

I tell you what though, I will be so freaking happy to make it to 50 and beyond that I will definitely want to have a celebration.

That's why I'd like to believe that my best birthday EVER is still ahead of me. ALL of them. Bring them on. 

In the meantime, it's somebody's birthday somewhere, so bring on the cake! 


Linking up for #imustconfess

What wasyour best birthday EVER?

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My Biggest Fashion Flop

I must confess that I've worn some truly hideous outfits over the years. I've blogged about them before. The thing is, I can't decide which one is the worst, so I'll let you draw your own conclusions. Go on, take a look! You will instantly feel ever so stylish if you do. You're welcome.

So, what do you think? Pretty bad, right?

It's a community service I offer, really. I wear daggy clothes to make everyone else feel like a fashionista. See? I'm just thinking of you!

But even after revealing all of the outfits in that post, I think I can recall yet another that was quite the shocker in retrospect.

Picture it: Sydney, 1989.

A young 18 year old Ness is clopping around to the Entertainment Centre, in all her innocence, to see a Simply Red concert (cutting edge taste in music, as usual), wearing a denim skirt with a red blouse and denim jacket with hideous, huge shoulder pads, and...erm...tassels. To complete this lovely look, I wore high-heeled, ankle length, lace-up boots and my smokin' hawt mullet-perm. Noice.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, I do not appear to have photographic evidence of the above. Your eyeballs are spared that atrocity. But I'm sure you all have a mental vision and it's not pretty.

It's interesting, because I'm on the spectrum but I was always something of girly girl. Apparently we're not supposed to be. I did like wearing frocks and jewellery and make-up. On the other hand I detest high heels (I did wear them occasionally when I was young - see above), pantyhose or stockings and bras. I like to be contradictory.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/178244097730294241/

As I've gotten older I've become more and more lazy low maintenance. I very rarely wear skirts or dresses these days. I'm a pants girl. NOT skinny jeans. Skinny jeans are stupid. Especially when you're not. Skinny, that is.

As for the whole 'leggings as pants' debate. I'll wear them with a long top or tunic type arrangement that covers my arse. Otherwise, no. Well, only around the house.

I usually have similar taste in fashion to my Mum. Which means that I'm either dressing like some one 30 years older than me, or my Mum is a really groovy granny who dresses 30 years younger. Definitely the latter, right? Shut up.

I also find that a lot of women's fashion is very impractical. Even pants don't have pockets, let alone dresses. Then there are all sorts of floaty tops that seem to be virtually see through. Which is fine if you're comfortable with that, but I'd rather keep my love handles and back fat safely camouflaged, thanks very much.

No wonder I have back fat. Ahem.

Image credit: https://www.facebook.com/SOML/

Anyway, the basic conclusion I've come to is that my entire life is a bit of a fashion flop, with very rare exception. I did look exquisite in my wedding gown. Prim, but exquisite.

And I'm sure table cloth tops and pinnies will be back in fashion very soon, proving that I was cutting edge all along.

Snorts.

Linking up  (late!) for I Must Confess

What's your biggest fashion flop?

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