Lady In Red

You know you're a mum when you go and buy a rain mac. Not your camouflage blend-in-with-the-crowd one, but a bright red polka dot one at that. You might as well go out in your slippers and not brush your hair...oh.

It appears that I'm now last in the pecking order in our little family, it's: bubba, husband then me and it's all my own doing. It's just I forget about me now and the things I used to do for myself. For example, I used to have a bit of a magazine fetish (nothing kinky I'm afraid) that went hand-in-hand with a bubble bath and a glass of wine. Now that seems like a lifetime ago.

And Christ knows when I last went to the salon to get my hair, or anything else, spruced. I'm even pondering whether to get that obligatory mum-chop, you know the one? Where you don't need to actually style your hair; it's short enough so you don't get baby dribble and sick in it, or it gets pulled out by the handfuls.

Right now, I'm rocking the 'Shoreditch top-knot', except it's purely for practical reasons. Rather than joining the trendy (but pretending they're not trendy) East London crowd by wearing the black (no prescription) framed glasses that accompany the bun. I've got the geek-chic look sorted: all I need to do is don some brogues with my PJs.

Included in not looking after myself is my diet - are the words diet and biscuits allowed together btw? I'm not getting near enough my five-a-day. I must admit, I've never been a gourmet chef at the best of times - even though I do make a mean Burmese curry - but my culinary skills have gone to pot (excuse the pun). My daily nutrients usually consist of peanut butter on toast accompanied by downing a glass of Berocca on my way out of the house.
But I have nailed getting ready in a military operation style though - I'm pretty sure I can fix up and look half blunt faster than Usain Bolt can run the 100 metres. And a pair of sunnys and a smacker of red lippy (to match my new red mac perhaps?) is a great disguise for those sleepless nights.

Saying all that, I do still at least check I'm dressed properly before I head out… Unlike Shirley; who once walked to her friend's house with her left boob hanging out, (yep, you read that right) all jiggly and exposed as she strolled up the street. Her friend had to motion to her that her bazonga was on display as she handed her a drink - all in front of two strangers...

So these days, I might look more Little Red Riding Hood than Chris De Burgh's Lady in Red, however, I do stop short at stuffing tissues up my sleeve. Just remind me to untie that muslin from around my shoulder...