Dear Daughters and Sons – how to not become a hermit in a knitted beanie.

Dear Daughters and Sons,

All my life I have been ’emotionally fluid’ you know – like waves, large ones that roll and crash about without direction. Its gotten worse as I’ve gotten older which is a bummer because I expected to grow wise and become able to control my emotions. Not just grow older. I used to wonder how those older people who lived like hermits with big overgrown gardens and spooky houses became like that. Now I know that over a life – life’s experiences can wear you down, erode away your sense of self worth and faith in others until you want to hide. I could easily be on the road to being the strange hermit, behind the rambling roses, with the tumbling down house. I have been hurt often enough, I have hurt others often enough that I find it easy to drown in waves of self loathing.

I have searched for self worth in many places. I searched for it in my appearance and true, when I was in my 30’s the decade where everyone is beautiful, I felt great walking down the main street of Daylesford in my short short dresses and knee high boots. But now I am too old for short short skirts though never too old for knee high boots. We all will look older one day (unless we are Nicole Kidman) and can no longer rely on youth for self worth. I searched for self worth in sex and I had some fun sex on tables and by rivers with gorgeous men with long flowing hippie hair and even better forbidden sex with men I shouldn’t have been with. But then I met the man I wanted to grow old with and my relationship with him became more important than sex – which was lucky because nothing ruins sex and self worth like getting aggressive cancer and I got that when I turned 40. I searched for self worth in social media even though I don’t really get it and hashtag all the wrong words and send messages to the wrong people. But I realised I felt happy when people liked my posts and became distraught when a men’s vigilante anti feminist group in the USA latched onto me and swamped me with hate mail and I ran and hid.

Lots of things make me want to hide. I could easily be on the road to being the strange hermit, behind the rambling roses, with the tumbling down house. I have been hurt often enough, I have hurt others often enough that I find it easy to drown in waves of self loathing.

But I choose not to become the strange hermit in a hand knitted beanie.

Because what really gives me my sense of self worth is the relationships I have with the people closest to me. These aren’t relationships where we exchange a couple of texts or like each others posts (though these are useful ways of staying in touch on a daily basis with those you love). These are relationships that exist in real time, spent in the real world, with food and drink and old fashioned breaking of gluten free bread. This is sitting every morning with my husband over a pot of tea and coffee. This is knowing what is happening in my kids lives and hearing their voices every few days. This is being honest with my friends about how much they mean to me even if they think I am a soppy loser who might be too dependent and intense.

So daughters and sons, in a noisy noisy world with skinny skinny actresses and models plastered everywhere – don’t find self worth in your appearance. And in a world where thank god it is becoming more acceptable to be pan/trans/bi/gay/straight/binary/non-binary remember that in the end sex is just sex and please remember that texting is not a heartfelt letter, posting memes is not sharing your soul, likes and follows do not mean you are loved or not loved.
What matters is the relationships you are building with those that will accompany you through life and stop you becoming a hermit.

Dear Daughters – finding a perfect man – Dear Sons – why you can never be one

Yesterday my husband Pete forgot about my strict baptist upbringing and thought he would try a little role playing with me.

He walked into the kitchen, swaggering in a singlet and shorts and said, ‘G’day Lovvie, I’m Big Bob from Big Bobs massage palour for professional women.’

He didn’t get the response he wanted, I reached for my favourite tea pot, laughed and said, ‘Nah thats never gonna work on me.’

He walked out and a few minutes was back, ‘G’day Love,’ he said, ‘Mick the plumber here to fix your ah plumbing.’

‘Nope – not working,’ I said and kept pouring the hot water onto my darjeeling leaves.

‘Ahh,’ he sighed, ‘what do you want then?’

‘Try – Hi I’m Aiden, I have a PHD in Women’s Rights, I’m super kind and sensitive but also really witty and I work out and I can mend fences, do electrical work and any other tradie jobs you need doing. Got any housework or handiman work I can do for you,’ I said.

‘Wow you don’t want much in a man hey?’ he asked.

SPECIAL NOTE: To all the men who keep writing me hate mail about this post – STOP! This post is NOT about men. It’s about women and the sometimes ridiculous expectations we have of what men can be (mainly instilled in us as little girls by disney movies and alpha men in hollywood movies). Like wise men often have ridiculous expectations of women –  and if we aren’t gorgeous and slim and under 35 we simply don’t exist. And for the record my husband is not slim, nor handy with any tools, he can’t do electrical work, or fencing and he doesn’t have a PHD but he does have a really kind heart, he knows when I want protection (because he is physically bigger than me) and he respects my abilities and encourages me to achieve all I want to achieve in life as I hope I do for him.

 

Dear Daughters and Sons – When it’s Okay to Cheat on Your Significant Other

I have been both a cheater and the cheated on, I cheated with a guy who looked just like Sting, he spent 6 months slowly seducing me and OMG he was gorgeous, he was also a cross dressing bisexual junkie but he was gorgeous.

And I have also been cheated on, my partner did it with a woman that was 10 years older than me which somehow made me feel even worse because I couldn’t even complain that he was going for the stereotypical younger model.

To be fair to me it was the 80’s which was pretending to be the 70’s which was pretending to still be the 60’s and full of free love and daisies.

Here is when it’s okay to cheat on your partner/wife/husband – WHEN YOU WANT A DIVORCE.

And probably even then there are better ways to go about splitting up.

Here is what I have learnt about cheating both as a cheater and the cheated on.

Cheating isn’t the cause of a break up – it’s the symptom of deeper underlying problems.

When everything is okay the most gorgeous Other can come along and try to seduce you or your mate with their Alexander Skarsgard or Christina Hendricks sparkle and any happy couple will immediately close ranks and protect what they have against the intruder.

When I cheated – I desperately wanted out of the relationship and with three little kids, no money of my own and even less sense or maturity I had no practical idea of how to go about doing it.

So I forced the situation with an absolutely ludicrous but luscious affair – oh my god was he hot.

When I was cheated on I really didn’t care that my partner was having sex with someone else because the relationship and the sex was pretty crap but I did care that he was betraying my secrets to her and that he was lying to me ALOT, it really made me feel insignificant and worthless.

Cheating hurts the cheated on and the cheated with.
Because your partner always knows in their gut that you are cheating on them and the other person always thinks you are going to leave and set up a nest with them when really they are just a symptom or a transit vehicle.

You can justify the cheating anyway you want – but it still hurts someone.

Do I regret the affair – nope I don’t – he really did look like Sting or Axl Rose or that dude from Cheap Trick and he was one of the kindest men I have ever known.

But I do regret the cheating.

It really destroyed the person I cheated on (who just so happened to also be cheating on me).

If you are feeling seduced into cheating your mate – my advice is close ranks or split up instead.

Of course there are always exceptions to every rule.
This is true – I had two close friends who had been together since they were 14. He started to realise that she was being seduced by someone at work and that he might lose his childhood sweetheart. He figured that as they’d been together since 14, and she’d never been with anyone else she was probably bored or wanting to experiment. So he quit his job, bought two round the world tickets and surprised her with them. Off they went and by the time they got back she had forgotten all about the other guy. It’s thirty years later and they are still very happy together.

Dear Daughters and Sons – how to be happy for 50 years

Dear Daughters and Sons,
So we all look at those elderly couples that walk hand in hand down the street, completely comfortable in each others company, he in his hat men haven’t worn since the thirties, she in her floral frock and we turn and look at our partner and say, ‘I want that to be us in 50 years time. I want us to still be that in love.’

And we think that the elderly couple are really lucky to have had a life together that’s obviously been filled with loving, longing looks, continuous kindness, hot afternoon impetuous on the kitchen table sex, children and grandchildren.

But is this really the road to where we want to end up? Is this really the road to being that elderly loved up couple?

I think the road to being that couple is actually filled with fights that are resolved or forgotten, harsh words that are forgiven, tolerance, sleepless nights with children and grandchildren which make you far too exhausted for any kind of sex even a quick bonk and forgiveness and more forgiveness and tolerance and more tolerance.

So next time you look at that couple as he opens the door for her and gently guides her through, and then you look at your own partner texting on his mobile oblivious to you, who right at the moment you hate because he probably just did something really stupid like told your best friend you don’t really like her new partner which you told him in confidence, or spent all night up with his brother on the X box making you a game widow again, or asked you the unforgivable question – is it that time of the month – remember – that this is the road to being that elderly, totally in love couple walking down the street hand in hand with a smug smile of contentment on the sweet lined faces.

Dear Daughters – About Grains of Truth

Hot Property?
Hot Property?

Dear Daughter’s,

And so here is a Singlet that is for sale in Ice Design, Earlville, Cairns.

Do I really need to say anything?

It kinda speaks for itself.

I did say something to my daughter.

I said, ‘Don’t even think about it!’

Thankfully she said, ‘As.  If!’

Who is the idiot who thinks this kinda stuff is appropriate for teenage girls to wear – where are we? Last time I looked it wasn’t the middle ages.

Please aim higher than to be someone’s property.

Please, no matter how much you love him, don’t advertise yourself as his property.

Dear Daughters – don’t buy into this crap! Even if it’s presented as tongue in cheek because everyone knows there is a grain of truth to every joke.

Letters to Sons and Daughters – How to be a slut

Dear Sons and Daughters,

 

I was driving down Mulgrave Road with both my teenagers in the back of the car munching on chips and drinking slushies. They were discussing the other students at the school.

‘What about Jenna,’ said my boy

‘OMG she is such a slut,’ said my daughter.

‘She’s the sluttiest slut face ever,’ my son agreed.

There was a little more discussion along the lines of,

‘Well the whole school knows what a slut she is…..

At this point I put my foot on the brake and stopped in the middle of the busy road, all the traffic honked, glared and drove around us which I ignored. This was much more important. I turned and said,

‘What exactly makes this girl a slut?’

‘Oh well,’ said my boy, ‘she breaks the two year rule.’

‘The two year rule?’ I began driving again, much to the relief of the 3 kilometres of built up traffic behind us.

‘Yeah there’s a two year rule,’ said my daughter.

‘Tell me about the two year rule?’

‘Well,’ explained my son like I was really the most stupidest stupid person over 20 EVA! ‘The two year rule is that you can’t date anyone who is in a grade more than two years above or below your grade.’

‘You do realise,’ I said slowly so they could take it in, ‘that your father is eight years older than me. When I was 14 he was 22. That makes me – your mother – extra slutty.’

‘Oh but she doesn’t just break the two year rule. She’s also been out with three different guys this year.’

‘At the same time?’ I asked.

‘No one after the other.’

It was November.

‘So three guys in 11 months. And she’s how old?’

‘Fifteen,’ said my son, ‘she’s in between us.’

‘God I once dated three guys in the one day,’ I said, ‘What does that make me? Guys by your calculations nearly every girl in the world is a slut. Do you think that’s fair?’

Silence.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘What about the boys that date these girls that are more than two years younger than them or who have dated three girls this year. Are they sluts too?’

Silence

‘No they’re Players.’

‘Ahh,’ I said, ‘Feminism has achieved such boundless equality for women.’

‘Are you being sarcastic?’ my son asked.

Letters to Daughters and Sons – True Lies

Dear Daughters and Sons,

True Lies:

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me – Ahh Bulls..t. Use sticks and stones to break me any day over Crushing, Heart Breaking, Words.

Once a cheater always a cheater – Not true! My ex-husband cheated on me and I on him (with a gorgeous cross dressing dope addicted hippie who looked like Sting) but I have never cheated on my second husband and never will. Cheating is a SYMPTOM not a CAUSE. (However my recommendation is that it’s better not to cheat because if you are splitting up, it only murkies the waters, and allows the other person to concentrate on your cheating rather than the relationship problems).

The Best things in life are free – Free my arse! The best things in life cost a packet. The best thing in my life is my kids and they say the average kid costs $200,000 to raise. Times that by 5 means without kids I could have been a lonely millionaire.

Love means never having to say you’re sorry. My daughter’s wall is plastered with cute little truisms like this one, accompanied by cute little pictures of cute little teddy bears with bandages on their arms. Problem is they are lie-isms. Love means very much saying you are sorry – a lot!

Especially if you are the bloke, because let’s be honest blokes – half the time you just don’t get what it is you’ve done wrong – and if you do get it you usually didn’t mean to be nasty and horrid – you just weren’t thinking – you say

which lands you in more hot water because – why can’t you think about your better half’s needs once in a while – not even thinking about us is as bad as thinking and doing the wrong thing on purpose – we say

– and well if you thought of that, you say, you wouldn’t be in trouble, but you have to think you’re not thinking to be able to rectify not thinking

and so it goes on and before you know it,  the hole is so deep you are half way to the centre of the scoring hot earth where you will surely be burnt to a crisp by the she-devil herself, so you might as well just say sorry and mean it and get on with being in love.

Karma will sort everything out in the end – More Bull….t Bad people get away with bad stuff all the time. The problem is that usually good people blame themselves and allow it to define them when bad things happen to them and bad people blame everyone else. Bad stuff doesn’t happen to you because you are bad. Bad stuff happens because bad stuff happens. Good people need to stick together.

Letters to Daughters and Sons – Baggage only lasts 5 years

Dear Daughters and Sons who carry Bags,

Some of us carry baggage through our lives and some of us have massive moving trucks crammed full of tea chests.

It’s amazing what we think we can’t throw out and what we absolutely must hold on to for dear life.

Five years ago we packed up our home to move to the other end of the country. Thinking we’d be back in a year we sold everything we thought we could do without and put everything that was really really really important, that we absolutely had to keep and would simply die without – into storage.

Five years later and we are still at the other end of the country and so a few months ago we paid an outrageous sum of money to have those boxes of important items freighted from the southern end of the Country, where they patiently had waited for us to fill our lives with them again, up over the highways that run the length of the Australia, to us now living in the far north.

We filled our lounge room with the boxes of treasures from our past and with great excitement I opened the boxes. It was going to be just like Christmas. After 5 years I had forgotten what we had packed up and expected to find old friends and lost memories.

Instead I opened box after box of junk.

There are boxes of MacDonald’s toys that five years ago the kids cherished. Now the only thing they can’t live without is – no not their embarrassing mum – their smart mobile phones. There are boxes of stuffed toys and boxes of well – just crap – like easily replaceable cheap glass ware and board games with missing pieces. I can’t believe we got a second mortgage to move this stuff when most of it is headed straight to the OP shop.

The lesson is clear.

What is important to you now

what you think you just absolutely impossibly can’t live without or your heart will split open

what is upsetting you now and giving you sleepless nights that make your brain churn like a washing machine

will be forgotten in 5 years time

and replaced with new worries to keep you awake and new treasures to fill you with bliss.

Letters To My Daughters – Things I didn’t do

Dear Daughters and Sons,

So I mentioned today –  whilst out Christmas shopping with my daughter – to the nice young 30 something shop assistant – that I thought being in your thirties was the best time for a woman.

You are young and beautiful and full of energy but by your thirties you have a bit of wisdom so that you don’t pick the wrong men – well not so often anyway.

In your twenties you are still so eager to be approved of.

Forties I can’t comment on because cancer wiped out my 40’s and I was just trying to stay alive.

Fifties I am still going through and the other decades are ahead of me so I can’t comment on them either.

But thirties were brilliant!

‘You can have a great time in your thirties,’ I said.

And my 20 something daughter looked at me with exactly the same expression she had when she was that little 3 year old who trusted me with her whole life and said, ‘But you didn’t do anything in your thirties – because you had us – you were a mumsie’

‘Of course honey,’ I said, ‘every second weekend when you were at your fathers I just sat and waited for you to come back home

‘I never experimented in the kitchen to find the best biscuit recipe for dope cookies

‘I never went to parties in that short little school girl dress, with fishnet stockings (proper stockings not tights) and danced till 4.30 in the morning

‘I never lusted over Mark Kilpatrick until the lusting got so bad that no other guy could sate it

‘I never spent hours trying to sate my lusting for Mark Kilpatrick with other guys – because no matter how hard I tried they just weren’t him but I kept trying anyway

‘I never sat under the shade of the enormous gums at the edge of my dam, watching yabbies bubbles with my girlfriends, drinking champagne and eating freshly baked cookies, while we chatted and laughed about men and sex

‘I never went skinny dipping in that dam either

‘I never cranked up Fine Young Cannibals, drank Cointreau out of an enamel mug and slathered paint around canvasses till midnight

‘I never met Pete at one of those parties, nor invited him back to my place at 4.30 in the morning when finally my lusting for Mark Kilpatrick withered to a thread of nothingness

‘No honey I wasn’t a MILF

‘I never did any of those things and that’s what makes me such a good mum

Letters to my daughters – dream with one foot

Dear Daughters, Aunts, Friends, Mothers,

At any age it is often hard to know what to do with your life. You want to make the best of it given as you probably only have one.

No spares, no returns.

My mother wanted me to be a nurse so that when I produced children I could mend their broken knees.

If not a nurse, her next suggestion was a teacher because teachers know how to control children – or so she thought – and that would make me a better mother.

Well if not a teacher, her third option for me was, what is now called a P.A. (personal assistant) or even better E.A. (executive assistant) but back then was just plain old secretary. Her reasoning was that as a secretary I would make a better wife; I could look after my husbands business affairs, write his letters and pay his bills with the efficiency I learnt in secretarial school and with such efficiency there would still be time for all my other wifely chores.

But what do I want for you daughters of mine – I could spout all the airy fairy stuff about following your heart. Well I followed my heart like the hippy girl I was, smothered myself in acrylic paints and canvasses, spouted socialist lingo about money not having any meaning and traipsed off to all the marches against the nuclear bomb and all it did was keep me poor, happy but poor – and sometimes the poorness made me very sad.

I met boys with similar values and we had sex amongst the canvasses and were poor together. Then I managed to marry one of them, produced three kids, divorced, had lots of sex, remarried another kinder hippy (by this time heading towards middle age) and produced two more kids and got even poorer.

I thought money meant nothing. But its absolutely not true. If I regret anything, it is not taking the opportunity to make money when I was young. I should have followed my heart but perhaps also done a little teaching on the side. So whilst I want you to follow your hearts, make art and music and drama and love; I also want you to think about where the money is going to come from – as boring as that is.

It is important for a woman to have her own money!

And whilst money doesn’t buy happiness it does buy the things that make you happy, like freedom for holidays, art, movies, good food, travel and being able to pay the bills. So balance the money with the chasing the dream stuff.

The other important thing to remember is that you are never too old to start something new no matter what it is!!!!!

When I was eight I wanted more than anything to marry my sunday school teacher, he was sooo blond. But I thought I would have to wait until I was 16 and that seemed such an old age.

Then when I was 14 I wanted to marry our minister Alan Marr. I thought we were meant to be together for ever. I held on to this one for a good ten years but when I got to 22 the age I thought I should marry, he was 32 and I thought that was ancient – not  to mention he had married a very nice someone else in the mean time and I was pretty pee-ed off he hadn’t waited for me.

When I was twenty eight I wanted to study medicine but I thought I was too old as I wouldn’t finish my studies until I was the elderly age of 35.

At 40 I wanted to be a psychologist but as I wouldn’t finish the studies until I was 45 what was the point?

I thought I was too  old to write a blog but I am and now someone, or two or a few are reading it.

The point is that our perception of how old is old changes as we get older.

And the real point is that no matter what your age it is only the age of your body. It is not the age of you!

So go out there and conquer and let nothing stop you!

I’ve got a job now but I am also going to chase that painting career I wanted back when I was 16 and my mother said “Don’t you dare start dressing like one of those artist people!!!” which is exactly how I’ve always dressed.

Letters to my daughters – especially the one who is 16 – don’t rush

Dear Daughters,

All global daughters. My youngest daughter is 16. She thinks I have forgotten. It might have been the drug dazed 70’s ….But I remember well – those high high wedges we tottered around on covered by our maxi dresses and big floppy hats over even bigger hair. Those guys with their long hair that blowed in the breeze like hero’s from Game of Thrones, those tight tight denims that just covered their tiny arses and draped on the ground with the flower embroidered bell bottoms, those skin glo-weave shirts that clung to every muscle on their chests.

My mother told me if I did anything with the boys she would know – and I stupidly believed her. If I told my daughter that she’d laugh at me. My daughter – just like all beautiful young girls is gorgeous, she bubbles, she skips when she walks, people are drawn to her eager for life eyes and her gentle giggle. The boys hang around her like kids hanging around the fairy floss machine at a fete.
“Oh” she says to me all sunshine and naiveté, ‘They just wanna be friends.”
“Oh honey,” I say “really?”

I have thirty years of experience of trying to be friends with guys and I can honestly say I ended up having sex with all of them! Men are wonderful but men are unable to separate friendship from sex because men are unable to separate anything from sex most of the time.

I tried to be friends with the german café owner and we had desperate sex on the café tables
I tried to be friends with a fellow student at art school and I ended up doing life modelling for him – enough said
I tried to be friends with a fellow parent at kindergarten and we ended up having friendly sex in the park while the kids were at kindy
I tried to be friends with a cross dressing client when I was a social worker and we still ended up having sex and he was wearing my clothes
I had sex with them because they were needy and I hate to seem uncaring and because they were friends and I felt warmly toward them and because at the time I couldn’t see the harm in it.

So now I say to my daughter, “Be careful, look after yourself because when you give yourself sexually you give a little of your soul too. Don’t be too eager – don’t think you will miss out if you don’t hurry in. Wait for him, wait for the ones that are good enough. Treat yourself and him with respect AND demand it back from him or dump him.”

If he puts you down – dump him!
If he tries to control you – dump him!
If he beats you – dump him!
If he uses anything as an excuse for superiority and that includes religion or culture – dump him
If he’s rude to your friends or family – dump him
If he won’t stick up for you – dump him

I had to wait until I was 33 for real love to find me but it did. But I truly think the secret was that I wasn’t looking for it. By then I was happy in my own skin and in my own space. Now when I look at my husband, he’s an old man. Gone is that thick jet black hair that hung to his elbows, gone is his height and the tight tight pants. He wears reading glasses now and his hear is grey – but I truly still think he is really hot!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/sex/10463976/Casual-sex-linked-to-depression-and-suicidal-thoughts.html

Welcome to all women who are or will one day be 50

Dear Women 50 and over or who will one day be 50

I am a woman. I have recently hit 50. Well its a bit less recent than I like to admit. For the last three years I have been under the impression that I was 51 until a friend recently informed me that she was 53 and I am a year older than her. Ahhhhh!!!!! 54 is so close to 55 and not as far away from 60 as I would like.

At this point I should make it clear that I am not afraid of growing old. There is only one other option to growing old and that is to die and I nearly very did when I was 40 and I didn’t enjoy it very much at all. I determined then and there I would never fight growing old. Growing old I saw was a Gift not afforded to everyone. I thought I would always feel this way having narrowly escaped death at 40 but ….

But I’m not sure I like growing older either. So what have I found out about being over fifty. Well this is the list:

  • men no longer let their gaze linger on me as walk down the street instead they don’t even see me and their heads quickly turn to take in the 20 and 30 somethings.
  • the only men who flirt with me now are so old and decrepit they have urine stains on the front of their trousers.
  • No one and I mean no one values my opinion, not in the workplace anyway, its always “why don’t we just hear from some of the younger staff present” and I think my kids are only being polite or humouring me and pretending to listen to me.
  • the day I turned 50 my body betrayed me and my eyes were “No you’re fifty now so I need bifocals, yep definitely need daggy bifocals”
  • sleep looks good after 9.30pm
  • a good pot of tea looks more attractive than sex
  • most films are boring and are either plot A with a car chase and shoot out or plot B with boy girl meets, boy girl fight, boy girl end up happily ever after at LA International after the boarding gate has closed and he has forced his way illegally onto the plane which is held up on the runway so he can declare his love.
  • its really hard to make new friends when you are over 50 as most people have their “friend set”
  • its lonely over 50 and there are a lot of 50 + women at the pokies
  • my body is betraying me and my waist has thickened without even giving me notice of its intention to do so

At my age my Gran was busy being a Gran. But these days lots of 50 + women are grandchildless and still feeling in their prime despite the bifocals. That’s me.

Fifty or not I am determined to:

  • meet other women which is why I have started this blog so write to me please
  • give up or control how much I go to the pokies from boredom and loneliness
  • be an attractive 50+ that men under 105 might want to still take a glance at before moving onto the 20 and 30 somethings
  • get a trendy pair of bifocals
  • fight my body and lose weight
  • make this part of my life as important as any other part of my life

Join me