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

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What I'm Most Proud Of

Last week I detailed my worst habits. This week, it's time to tell you what I'm most proud of. It's interesting to note how easy it is to list all my shortcomings, but when it's time to be proud I struggle.  

I'm not sure why, but whenever I try to find things about myself to be proud of or brag about, I feel like a tremendous wanker. This is why I end up being self-deprecating all the time. Sigh.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/160792649167745514/

There's nothing tangible that I've achieved that I can say that I'm proud of, like a shiny car, or a McMansion or an illustrious career.

Overall this blog is pretty pointless. But considering that many people start blogs and abandon them, the fact that I've kept a completely pointless, nicheless, personal blog about nothing, ticking over for several years is a small thing to be proud of. It's certainly nothing monumental, but at least I've made people smile or chuckle from time to time. Yes, I'm not exactly curing cancer, but with the over saturation of awful in our faces all the time, there's nothing wrong with it either. When I consider that I've done this without even having my own computer or laptop and amidst total chaos; the chaos that is my brain and the chaos that is this house and my family, it's actually not that easy.

It's a bit sort of obvious or predictable to say I'm proud of my family. My boys. But I really am. It's not that I think 'breeding', as I often hear it disparagingly called, is the epitome of achievement for anyone, particularly a woman. I don't.

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/37788084349673477/

But at the same time, it often seems like something to be almost apologetic about. The old I'm 'just' a mother. Why shouldn't I be proud of being a mother? I'm a keenly aware that there are many people who desperately yearn to be a parent and can't for a myriad of reasons, so I'm grateful.

Some people could argue that almost anyone can make human beings, so it's not an achievement. That may be true, but bringing them up to be decent human beings is a whole other thing. And I may be a tad biased here, but I think my boys are turning out to be pretty decent human beings. So I'm proud. I don't claim to be a perfect mother, far from it, but I must have done something right.

I'm proud of the fact that I stumbled through life not even knowing I was on the spectrum until I was 40.

I'm proud of the fact that I never give up even if I've struggled a lot over the years with my anxiety.  I try to see the funny, silly side of things even when things are a tiny bit shit. I don't see that as being negative. Quite the opposite. My philosophy is, that while my life may not always be perfect, I still haven't lost my sense of humour.

I'm proud of coping much better with things that scared me than I thought I would. Related: I was TERRIFIED of child birth. But I birthed four babies. One of them didn't survive. RIP my little angel baby 'Daniel'.

Without a doubt, I'm proud of beating cancer. I won't lie. Having seen many family members go through cancer, most of them sadly no longer with us, it's always been my deepest, darkest fear. Even a few years ago I could  never have even dealt with the thought of a cancer diagnosis. But I did. And I guess I was 'lucky'. It seems that it was found relatively early and the overall prognosis is good. But even so, the fears still linger in the back of your mind. I'm coping with this the best I can. It's not easy, so I definitely deserve to be proud.

And I deserve that McMansion. Anyone have a spare one? No? How rude. HMPH.

So that was my attempt at being a tremendous wanker. Winning!

Image credit:https://mymeanderingtrail.wordpress.com/2012/11/27/fifth-official-product-review-ever-barney-butter/

Linking up for I Must Confess.
 
What are you a tremendous wanker about? Oops, I mean what are you most proud of?

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An Aussie Holiday

G'day everyone! Just for shits and giggles, I thought I'd tell youse a bit our recent holiday to the Gold Coast - Aussie style!

It was a bonza holiday! I reckon I could waffle on a bit about it.

Let me tell you, it's hard yakka packing for the five of us. But I finally managed to shove it all in the bags and Micky Blue Eyes broke his back getting it all in the boot. 

It was going to be a long drive, so I put on a pair of daggy but comfortable daks. The boys wanted to get brekkie at Maccas, so went through the drive-through. Every time we do this, we fondly remember the time we went to good old Red Rooter Rooster and they had NO CHICKEN. Too funny!

We finally made it to Coffs Harbour, where we settled into a cramped cosy little motel room. At least the wifi there was bonza!

After two nights there, we drove on to the Gold Coast. Once we got there, us oldies were knackered and just wanted to veg out and do fuck all. But the boys were bored cos the wifi there was dodgy.

So we went and had a squiz at the beach. I think they might have even gotten wet a few times, but I totally forgot my bikini! Most likely cos I don't have one. Details!

We had a bit of butcher's hook around and got some snags and had a barbie, cos the cabin we were staying in had one.

The next place we stayed at was a bit iffy. Some drongo must have been having a durry in the next room, cos it reeked.

But we just wanted to get some tucker in our cake-holes. So began 'The Great Bakery Crawl of 2016'.  Mickey Blue Eyes is like totally OBSESSED with bakeries. He just forces me to eat cake! SO rude.

One day we drove to the sunshine coast to have lunch at Hog's Breath with the rellies. Notably my sister-in-law and brother-in-law.

We also had a good squiz at some Op shops and second hand book stores. Mr 12 scored some Goosebumps books. We like to keep it classy.

Next , we decided to go to Movie World. Crikey, it costs a few quid! 

We spotted a little kiddies ride called  Driving School or something.

"Do you wanna go on it?" Mickey Blue Eyes asked Mr 7.

"No!" he flatly refused.

Well, bugger me if he didn't insist on going on the roller coaster five minutes later! He went on it a total of six times! That's six times more than this chicken shit sheila. Shut up. Some one has to mind the bags!

I was worried that Mickey Blue Eyes might get a bit crook from the rides, but he didn't. That bloke is like a big kid!

Eventually it was time to say hoo-roo to the Gold Coast and head back to good old Sydney town, where we are currently freezing our bums off again.

But it's all good, cos we can plan our next bonza holiday!

See you at the beach! Or the bakery....

What do you like to have a squiz at when you're on holidays?

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My Worst Habit

I have lots of odd, annoying endearing habits.

Such as:

I leave my teabags in.

I snore.

I shave my legs rather infrequently.

I'm very quiet. I rarely talk, preferring to sit there with my resting bitch face on at social gatherings.

I over think.

I like to eat while web surfing or watching TV.

I read lots of self-help/improvement books, then completely ignore them anyway. The way I see it, you can't improve on awesome, can you? Ahem.

I write lists and forget them.

I scratch my ears a lot.

I stim and rock (it's an ASD thing).

I still compare myself with others, although I'm getting better with this one.
I procrastinate.

I collect notebooks and books, creating a lot of clutter.
I'm messy and disorganised.
I'm a day dreamer and space cadet.
I'm forgetful.

I'm addicted to Facebook and the internet. This became rather obvious when we were away on holidays recently with dodgy wifi.

According to Mickey Blue Eyes, I'm too negative. Just the fact that I've written this list of all my shortcomings would be seen as negative to him. I'm not really trying to be negative, I'm just being honest.

But even after writing this comprehensive list, my overall worst habit would have to be my eating habits in general. I just eat too damn much. Especially my beloved cakie things. And chocolate. Let's not forget about chocolate. Sigh.

I must confess sometimes it does feel like I have an eating disorder, except it's the opposite of anorexia. It's like compulsive eating or something. I'm obsessed with food. Some people eat to live, I live to eat.

I probably wouldn't worry about it too much, but the fact that I've had breast cancer and also have high cholesterol means it's quite important for me to have healthy eating habits and keep my weight within a certain range. Even a cancer diagnosis hasn't put me on a clean-eating quest. That's a sign that I have a problem. So it's back to Weight Witches with me this week. I have totally fallen off my broomstick while away on holidays. Sigh. I might need to consider a shrink or hypnosis or something as well. Something has to change.

But I'm always going to leave my teabags in. Don't judge me.

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What's your worst habit?

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My only goal for 2016

2016 has been a challenging year. I kicked off the year with a lovely little trip down chemotherapy lane. I'm sure most of you know that I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer in December 2015. So the first few months of this year were dedicated to getting through treatment. My only goal was to get to the end with my sanity (relatively) in check. Mission accomplished! Well, I do have moments of madness, but mostly everything is fine now.  

Setting goals

But here's a shocking confession: I've never been a person who sets goals and ticks off lists. I've just kind of drifted through life.

I know that probably comes as a huge surprise. OK, not really. It's totally obvious. This blog alone is a dead giveaway. If I didn't have the prompt and link-up every week I'd probably never update this blog. Even so it's ad hoc and all over the place.

I don't have any grand plan for this space, either to monetise or have x amount of readers by December. I just plan to plod on talking to myself and writing and confessing whatever I like, whenever I like. You're welcome.

Connecting to goals or values

This is a confronting or kind of interesting topic for me. I don't really know how to explain it. I don't seem to even know my own mind. That doesn't even make sense. For instance, we know that we eventually want to move, but even if the time was right and we could start making plans and taking action to do exactly that, I have no idea in hell where I want to move to or live.

It's quite strange. Most people would know where their dream address would be. Even it was unattainable unless they won the lottery or robbed a bank or something, they would still have somewhere in mind. I have no idea. Perhaps I just don't cope with change so I'm resisting it? It's just another strange insight to the nutty old world of Ness.

It's the same as connecting to your values. What do I truly value? I would say that I value health and family, yet I still struggle to live in accordance with those values all the time. I'm supposed to be a Weight Witches life time member, but I must confess I've been a very bad witch recently. Oops.

I still keep coming back to this value (health) or goal, so that's the main thing.


A light bulb moment or epiphany

You'd expect that having had a cancer diagnosis would lead to some sort of illuminating moment of utter clarity. I'd know exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life. I'd sit down and write a list of goals and get on with ticking them off like a boss.

No such thing has happened for me. It's weird. It's more a feeling of just wanting more of the mundane. When you have to spend months schlepping off to doctor's appointments all you want is to get back to 'normal'. Suddenly the idea of just doing the grocery shopping or school pick up seems appealing. I didn't want to be a cancer patient, I just wanted to be normal again. And I wouldn't mind having a full head of hair. Related: it is growing back. It's all grey and curly. I look like a lovely, placid sheep. Nice.


A new kind of normal


So here I am, finished with treatment. Now I go on to six-monthly check-ups. The first of which is coming up very quickly in late August/early September. It's a new kind of normal.

And that is my only big goal for 2016 and every other year. Staying boring and normal. You can never under estimate how wonderful 'boring' is. 

The only other goal I had was to go on a holiday with my family. Related: we will be headed to the sunny Gold Coast (via Coffs Harbour) by the time you're reading this! Hopefully we can relax and thaw out for a bit. 



So here's to a boring rest of 2016! Cheers! 

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What are your goals for 2016?

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One thing I wish I did differently

There was a time when I wished I did absolutely everything differently. Every single personality trait I have, I wished was the opposite.


Everything I wished was different


I'm quiet - I wished I was... not loud exactly, but bubbly and articulate.
I'm an introvert - I wished I was an extrovert. 
I'm shy- I wished I was outgoing, fearless and confident.
I'm scatter-brained and disorganised - I wished I was focused and efficient.
I'm a drifter and daydreamer - I wished I was driven and disciplined.
I'm nonathletic and uncoordinated - I wished I was sporty. 
I'm a night owl - I wished I was a morning person.

Blah blah blah.

Luckily, I don't have any gender confusion. I don't wish I was a man. Except for rare moments in grotty public toilets when the ability to be able to pee standing up would be an asset. But I digress.


Have I come to terms with all of the above?


I would like to be able to say that I've triumphed over all of the above and am blissfully happy and contented with my quiet, scatter-brained, nonathletic, night-owl self. But I can't. Well, to be honest, being quiet and introverted doesn't bother me as much as it used to, (although it often continues to bother others). However, I still find myself wishing I was much more organised, driven and disciplined. 

I guess it's because I'd like to be able to have something to point to in self-defence. People may like to point out that I'm quiet, but then I'd like to be able say "Well yes, I am, but on the other hand I'm really efficient and organised."

Um, no. No, I'm not. And it kind of irks me, to be honest. I get all whiny and pouty and pissed off like a three year old being denied cake. Or a 45 year old. Details. Shut up.

 If I'm going to struggle in one area, why can't I have another that is a strength? Nope. Lucky me, I get to struggle with social skills and executive functioning.


Always be yourself


And to make matters worse, it's not like my Aspie brain decided to fixate on a really helpful special interest like say, math or, I dunno, gardening or something. My mind decides to fixate on Karen Carpenter. I can remember every little tiny detail I've read or heard about her career and life both good and bad, yet I can't remember where I put my glasses five minutes ago or which school notes are due or what day it is. It's probably Monday if I've posted this. Is it Monday?

The only thing this (my Karen Carpenter obsession) is useful for is time-wasting and making people look at you like you have two heads. Winning! 

That's why expressions like 'be yourself' and 'feeling comfortable in your own skin' annoy me. 

It seems like when advice like the former is doled out it really means: be yourself, but only if you're an outgoing, type A, driven extrovert. 

And I don't know if I'll ever be truly one hundred percent comfortable in my own skin at all times. Maybe accepting that I'm always going to be just a tiny bit awkward is as good as it gets. In this way perhaps I'll worry about it less. I can already see this working. I know I'm always the most quiet person in any given situation, but I can still show up and sit there with my resting bitch face on. It's all good. 

The ONE thing I wish I did differently


Of course I'm just over thinking. As usual. 

So I guess if I was going to pinpoint one thing that I wish I did differently it would be that. I wish I didn't over think about stuff. Especially all of the above. After all, people still genuinely like me the way I am. Some of them even love me and would lose a kidney for me if necessary. And they feel this way without me changing a thing. They like quiet, scatter-brained me, complete with a cake and Karen Carpenter obsession. Well, I'm sure Mickey Blue Eyes wishes I'd get over it at times, but I wish he'd get over his soccer obsession, so we're even. 

And some people will simply never like you even if you gave them a Ferrari, and that's OK. Being liked by everyone sounds exhausting to an introvert like me! 

I suppose I could try an experiment George Costanza style and do the opposite of every instinct I have for a day or two to see how it goes? But then I'd have to not eat cakies. Bugger that!

Yep, it's definitely time to stop over thinking. Now if only I could stop over thinking about over thinking....

I'll have to think about that...



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What's the one thing you wish you did differently?

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I freak out when...

Hello dear people. Today I am going to tell you what really, completely and totally freaks me the fuck out. It's freaky.

Here goes: 

I freak out when I see a cockroach. Unfortunately I have passed this trait on to my boys. Mickey Blue Eyes reckons I could be hired for sound effects in horror films. All they would have to do is put a cockroach in front of me. I emit the most blood-curdling, chilling scream of sheer horror. It is rather impressive for some one who is normally so quiet.

I freak out when I get dizzy.  This is a massive phobia for me. Weird. I guess it probably has a name.

I googled it. 

Apparently it is called  Dinophobia.

It all started 22 years ago when I jumped up quickly out of a chair when I was freaking out from seeing something on the telly that made me squeamish. (Yes, blood and guts and all that freaks me out, too!). I had a massive panic attack, hyperventilated and passed out. At the time I didn't actually identify it as a panic attack, because I'd never had one before.

I'm not sure if it was ongoing anxiety from that experience or the result of hitting my head when I passed out, but I then experienced frequent attacks of vertigo. It still freaks me out so much that I won't talk about it too much here. 

I don't understand how people enjoy going on amusement park rides and making themselves dizzy.  They are demented. I am not. The end. 

This phobia has changed who I am. I guess you could say that I've always been the scaredy cat person who was afraid of anything that threatened my equilibrium. 

As a child I was terrified of both escalators and elevators. To be honest it was never a claustrophobia thing, I just didn't like the sensation of movement. The feeling of the ground dropping and moving under you. It  totally freaked me out. I often avoided lifts. 

I also feared being on a boat or ferry because I didn't like the rocking sensation. Are you seeing a pattern here? I'm a 'two feet firmly on the ground' kind of girl. 

I can remember being terrified on a merry-go-round. Yes, I was a fun child. My brother and I often went to a park around the corner from my aunt's house. It had one of those rides that spin around. My brother LOVED it and I HATED it. 

"Scary-go-round" is a very apt name for this, if you ask me

*shudders*

So it's comforting to know that I haven't matured beyond the age of eight. Nice. I would still be terrified to spin around on those things. 

Next month we're headed to the Gold Coast. You won't see me on any rides at the theme parks. I'll happily mind the bags and jackets while Mickey Blue Eyes takes the boys on rides. I might even take a book. That's my kind of thrill seeking. Shut up.

I have to also confess that I freak out quite a bit every time I think about my breast cancer 'journey'/diagnonsense, which is often. It's the first thing I think about every morning, and the last thing I think about at night.

I am totally freaked out by the realisation that it was just random 'luck' that it was discovered and diagnosed when it was. It could have been so much worse. All I did was decide to go to the doctor for my pap smear. I didn't even receive a reminder for it like I normally would. Somehow I just had it in the back of my mind that it was due. I also knew I had to have some routine blood tests done. However, my GP had said to me mid last year that I could have left it until January if I wanted to. Between her saying that, and not receiving a pap smear reminder, I could easily have said to myself "Stuff it, I'll wait until January", but I didn't. THANK GOD I DIDN'T. I would have been so screwed.

As much as I wish the whole thing hadn't happened at all, it did. And my doctors say it was an early cancer. I wish I didn't have cancer at all, but at least I was 'lucky' that it was found relatively early. It's still a freaky feeling to think too much about the future and what may happen. Mickey Blue Eyes assures me that this is something that takes time. It took him a good few years to get past this fear. (He had bowel cancer in 2004). I guess it will always freak me out a little. But I'm learning that you live with uncomfortable feelings. I don't have to like them, but I can make room for them.

Speaking of freaking out, is everyone else quietly alarmed by how fast the year is flying by? It's almost the end of June and term two! Cue all the Facebook posts counting down the days until Christmas. Please don't tell me exactly how many days it is. I don't want to know. I'm freaking out. 

Well, that's enough freakyness from me. Now I'm freaked out because I don't know how to spell 'freakyness'. Is it freakiness or freakyness? Is it even a word? Who knows? 

I need it a cup of tea and a good lie down after all this freaking out. Later, people!  



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What is your weirdest phobia? 

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