I’ve never been good at making decisions. Sometimes I
find myself agonising over the simplest of things. Deciding what to have on a sandwich becomes
this epic debate in my mind, fraught with fear and self-doubt. Should I have
tuna or cheese and tomato? Perhaps a good old-fashioned curried egg and lettuce
would suffice? Then again, there is left-over chicken in the fridge! There are just too many choices!
Plus, what if it my sandwich filling choice just doesn’t
delight my taste buds on that particular day? I’ve already consumed the
calories! What a disaster! See? I knew I would choose the wrong thing!
This probably explains why cheese and tomato sandwiches
were my staple diet for many years. It eliminated the decision making progress
to opt for the same thing time after time. If I really wanted to be totally
wild and crazy I might mix it up by having toasted
cheese and tomato. I’ve always been cutting edge.
This cutting edge tendency is probably apparent in my
choice of attire. Boring, bland and predominantly black sums it up. Therefore,
the amount of time I spend ruminating and pondering over what to wear is patently
ridiculous. Who cares what I wear? As
long as I’m covered and clean that’s all that matters.
This doesn’t stop me from wasting an inordinate amount of
time fussing over my outfit. It seems that I must be under some sort of grand
illusion that I’m a celebrity about to be hounded by the paparazzi each time I
leave the house. It’s as if I’m making the important choice of whether to wear
the Prada or Gucci instead of the Best & Less or Big W. Often, I mix
it up and team Big W garments with Best
& Less ones because, you know, that cutting edge thing again. And do you
know what? Except for all the times I’ve been mistaken for Nicole Kidman*, this
hounding by the paparazzi hasn’t happened yet!
Don’t even get me started on grocery shopping. It’s the
stuff of nightmares for a scatterbrain like me. So many aisles, so many
decisions! I do take lists but still get confused once I’m in the supermarket
and all those rows upon rows of choices are around me. Suddenly, things appear
in my trolley that weren’t on the list. Of course they are always organic kale
and herbal tea, not chocolate or cakies.
No way.
I mean, do you know how long I’d spend agonising over
whether to get the Maltesers or Mars Bars? It just seems easier to get both.
Ahem. Except that these days I’m on Weight Witches, so I just walk very fast
past the confectionary aisle. Then I get to the check out and there they are,
right in front me. Sigh. Life can be cruel sometimes.
Anyway, I spend so much time agonising over these mundane
decisions it may have prevented me from making any reckless, life-changing
decisions that I’ve come to regret. I’ve never taken illegal drugs, gambled
away my life savings or robbed a bank.
Yes, there is an infamous mullet-perm in my past but a)
it was the 80s, and b) it’s provided ample entertainment as fodder for this
blog. So let’s give it another whirl.
There is one mild regret lurking in my past. Rewind back to around 1992 or 1993. By this time I had ditched the mullet-perm for an attractive poodle perm. Like I said, I’ve always been cutting edge and classy. I was in my early 20s and working at the State Library. Somehow, on my meagre pay I had managed to save a sizeable chunk of money. I was able to do this because I lived with my parents and didn’t have a car or a social life. This totally confirms my cutting edge status. Shut up.
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| I should regret this hairs style- but I won't. I know you're laughing. You're welcome. |
There is one mild regret lurking in my past. Rewind back to around 1992 or 1993. By this time I had ditched the mullet-perm for an attractive poodle perm. Like I said, I’ve always been cutting edge and classy. I was in my early 20s and working at the State Library. Somehow, on my meagre pay I had managed to save a sizeable chunk of money. I was able to do this because I lived with my parents and didn’t have a car or a social life. This totally confirms my cutting edge status. Shut up.
In the back of my mind I had some hazy idea that I was
saving the money to eventually buy a car or go overseas. There were two
problems with this grand plan; a) I didn’t have a drivers’ license, and b) I
didn’t have any friends to drag overseas with me. The idea of taking off on my
own never occurred to me. I was still a tragic Mummy’s girl and ridiculously
shy.
Luckily however, around this time I ended up joining
Rootaract. Uh, I mean, Rotaract and thusly acquired something resembling a
social life. Consequently, I met Mickey Blue Eyes. My parents were in the process of planning a
trip overseas to the UK. It crossed my mind that I had the cash to go with
them. I quickly dismissed this thought as absurd. After all, mature, worldly,
hip 22 year-old Mummy’s girls who lived at home and proudly owned an entire
collection of Carpenters albums didn’t go overseas with their parents! This would totally tarnish my now legendary
cutting edge persona!
Case in point: The Carpenters were totally retro-cool in
1993! There was even an alternative tribute album recorded in their honour! This
confirmed that I was ahead of the game and cooler than anyone gave me credit
for. To my 22 year old mind I couldn’t risk the damage to my ultra-cool
character. It would just be sad and pathetic to go away with my parents.
Besides I would have to be parted from Mickey Blue Eyes for a whole month! We
were still at that stage where we actually missed each other if we weren’t
together every day.
Of course, 20 or so years later I’m wondering why this
was even an issue. I see the man all
day, every day. Every. Single. Day. What was I thinking? A month was a blip in the ocean in the scheme
of things.
And the sad truth of the matter is, I would have enjoyed
going overseas with my parents much more than going on some Contiki tour with a
bunch of raucous, drunken twenty-somethings. Sad, but true.
So I guess what I’m saying is, if I could rewind back to
1993 I would have gone overseas with my parents. But it’s all good, because we’re
currently in the process of obtaining our passports so I’m sure we’ll get there
eventually. Except now we’ll have three lovely children to tag along just to
make it extra special. This should be tremendous fun. I mean what could be
worse: going overseas with your middle-aged parents when you’re young or
waiting until you’re middle-aged and going with children? This is a totally rhetorical
question, just in case you were trying to figure out the correct answer.
Oh well, I suppose I had better leave it there and go and
decide what to have for lunch. After all, it could take a while.
*OK, so I've never been mistaken for Nicole Kidman. But it could still happen! HMPH!
What
decision would you change if you could?
