Out of the mouths...

See me,wrinkle free!

When I was younger working with kids was really awesome for my ego. More often than not, the little beauts would make me feel so good about myself. They would say the sweetest things.

"Good morning teacher, I like your dress!"

"Good morning teacher, your hair is so soft."

"Good morning teacher, you are sooooooooooo pretty."

"Teacher, one day when I'm big I want to be a princess just like you!"

I loved the compliments. I thrived on them.

Now, when I think back on all the beautiful compliments the kids used to pay me I just want to crumple in to a ball of suicide and cry my eyes out! You know, cry the ugly cry - snot dripping, face contorted and voice all pitched and hoarse at the same time. The little buggers never compliment me anymore. I can't remember when last I was told by a 4 year old that I am pretty!  I could blame the parents and say that modern day folk don't teach their kids any manners, but the fact of the matter is I don’t know that for a fact.  I would hate to start a rumour based on an assumption so I'm just going to have to go with..... I've got old and little kids don’t think old is pretty.

A 13 year old asked me how old I am.

“How old do you think I am?” I responded.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I answered his question with a question. I walked straight into his dreadful response.

“A HUNDRED” he shouted out his guess.

It was hard not to retort. I desperately wanted to tell him that I didn’t like his shoes and that he had ugly hair and his pimples made me feel sick, but I behaved, literally biting my tongue.

“Good guess”, came my bitter reply.

“Teacher, are you a granny?” a 5 year old asked.

Another ambush that I walked straight into. There really is something wrong with me! I’m some sort of sucker for punishment.

“No sweetie, I’m not a granny. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like one!”

Why couldn’t I just have responded with a NO? Why did I have to ask?

And, whoever it was that made it illegal to lock kids in boxes - I hate that guy. I really, really hate that guy.

“Teacher, what are all those things on your face.”

“Do you mean my freckles?”

“No, those line things!”

What I really wanted to spit back at this 6 year old was that the lines were proof that I’m not a sour puss like her mom! But again I bit my tongue, put my hands (that I was envisaging around her neck) in my pockets and smiled sweetly….

“They are the stripes that I’ve earned for being a really cool person.”

So the last 5 or so years have been very much ‘compliment free’ years. My ego has plummeted and I feel so rotten about aging and my wretched wrinkling. I have really low self esteem because I place such high value on how four year olds perceive me. (Yes… I know…. There’s something really wrong with me.)

But in my own defence, if you consider that the age of the people I spend the best part of most days with is between 2 and 13 years, what else do you expect!

And then, a compliment came in the way of a picture….

A totally unintended compliment I’m sure, but I’m grabbing it, using it, holding on to it and boosting my ego with it.

“Teacher Nat, I drew this picture for you!” said 7 year old Mpho. “It’s a picture of you with your wolf.” she explained.

I took the picture from her and scanned across the page.

“It’s beautiful my darling!” I exclaimed, holding back tears.

“It’s really, really beautiful!”

I was deeply touched -A compliment at last.

She had drawn me without wrinkles!

Currently I have enough ‘self – e – steam’ to run on for as long as the Prestik keeps the picture hanging on my office wall. I will really be putting the stick-span of Prestik to the test.   

Toodles

xxx

 

Free advice?

Since I started my little ‘whine & moan' I have been sent a total of 4 (yes, only four) tips that could possibly help me with my wrinkle dilemma. What the heck people? Help an old bag out! Where's all the advice?  Sheeez, nobody gives out free advice anymore! But anyway......  Special thanks to the four GF's that were kind enough to recommend possible solutions. 

My first offer of a possible solution came all the way from Abu Dhabi - You see, it’s the far-away friends that really care.... they can give you their beauty secrets because they don’t need to compete against your good looks. They live too far away to be threatened by your possible gorgeousness.  

Now there were no empty promises made here. Sandy was honest from the start and said she had not experimented with the capsules herself but had heard that drinking Collagen was supposed to be a great remedy for firming skin. Considering many of my wrinkles appeared after my weight loss this advice was taken very seriously and collagen capsules were acquired. The instructions read: Take three capsules at night. So, I drink three capsules every night (that I remember).

My second lot of advice came from my little (she's really short) friend, who works in the beauty department of a national pharmacy-type-store. Apparently it’s not only external factors such as sun damage that can cause wrinkles. Bad diet, not drinking enough water (let’s not go there again), free radicals, booze, and stress can all play a part in how your skin ages. It doesn’t help that I carry some seriously awful aging genes, but apparently my damage has been done from inside, outside and my family genetics. Eish! So, according to Erina I can try to fight my wrinkles from the inside too, and not just use all the creams and topical potions. Erina recommended the Nutriwoman vitamin package. This is a package that contains daily packs of vitamins - 7 (SEVEN) capsules to be taken every morning. It’s not an easy feat since half the capsules are the size of bullets. It takes a whole cup of tea to get them all down, but on the up side they really fill me up, so I can leave the house feeling like I've had breakfast even though I haven't.  I remember to take these ones daily because I keep them in the drawer with my 'pollyfiller' - otherwise known as make-up.  I've been taking them for two weeks now. No great shakes just yet - I can't see any changes other than radio-active looking pee.  

After whinging about Dr Evil and my wasted 10K I was invited to a ‘Ladies Beauty Day’ by a pal that’s probably only 3 years younger than me, but looks half my age. The information I received was that a Doctor was inviting 20 women to take part in a beauty day in which she will do a free skin analysis and have lovely specials on all her Botox and Filler packages. “Oh wow,” I thought… I already have some Filler in my face – evidently not nearly enough – so maybe I should attend the ‘cheap beauty day’ and get a top-up of Filler - perhaps then I’ll see a difference. “Sign me up – I’ll be there!”  I said happily. If it’s cheap or free I’m in!  I was added to the Whatsapp group and received some more info saying that there will even be a lucky draw and one of us lucky ladies will win something. The message doesn’t specify what, but I’m hoping its FREE FILLER! Those other chicks won’t know what’s hit them if the prize is free Filler. I’ve been known to bite, scratch and elbow people in the throat to get what I want. Those other women will have to be-very-ware!   A few days later I was added to an emailing list as more info was being sent out to all the prospective ‘old gals’ looking for a quick fix. I received the email and opened it excitedly and y’all ain’t gonna believe this…. The attending Doctor is ……………..  DR EVIL!  Should I go or shouldn’t I? Make no mistake, I’m going to be there – I’m taking this face of mine right over to that party and if I don’t get a free Filler fix I’m going be flapping my lips to all those old bats about my first very expensive, very disappointing ordeal with Dr Evil. When those girls hear that they are potentially about to waste money they’ll all be leaving that ladies party and Dr Evil will lose beeeg moola! A lot more than one free fix of Filler.  She better be good to me… or so help me, I’ll flap these lips, I’ll sing like a caged canary.  

The last piece of advice I’ve received actually came from my mom.

“Nakki-Noo” she started “there is one option and one option only – The knife!”

She continued, “You just have too much skin, my little duck! Trust me, nothing will take it away – only the knife!”  

She was using her knowing tone of voice.  

“But maaaarmie,” I whined, “I’ll upset Greg – He is pretty much against surgery for wrinkles since it’s not a life-threatening condition, and besides it costs about 100k – currently I have 85c in my wallet and a plastic card that make laughing sounds if I swipe it for more than R100. The knife is not an option for me.”

“Well,” my wise mother concluded, “then you’re just going to have to get over it!”

Whahahahahahaha.  Like that’s ever going to happen.

I’m still feeling desperate!

I’m taking free advice – But I’m not taking crap advice!

My struggle is real people, my struggle is real!

Toodles

Xxx

  

Karma drama

I was as miserable as anyone could imagine, after spending 10k and having nadda to show for it. I kept asking myself why?  Why was I so gullible?  The only answer I have is that I am 'forever hopeful'. One day I will find a wrinkle cure.

I arrived at work particularly moody a few days ago. I was feeling like I needed to lash out at someone. Just be mean and upset someone. Why should I be upset on my own. Sharing is caring, right?  So why not share the misery?   

What I was forgetting is that Karma happens to keep herself firmly attached to my left heel.  There is no karma wheel for me. My karma is instant. I have experienced instant karma on countless occasions. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't think about this little curse of mine while I was searching for an unsuspecting victim. I tend to forget very important things like this. That's another curse I have. I forget..... a lot.

I walked out on to the playground. All the little ones were sleeping and just a handful of kids were playing on the playground. All my staff were huddled in the sun trying to defrost. A little boy came to ask me for some juice and that was when I launched my assault.

"Why are you all standing there while kids are thirsty over here?" I bellowed.
That got everyone's attention! And now that I had everyone's attention I could declare war.... me against them (I'm brave that way).
"What am I paying you for? To stand in the sun? - Kids are thirsty here - get here and fix this, all of you!" I shouted,  looking as angry as I could make myself.
"I won't have laziness here," I continued, "I won't stand for it! - If you want to stand in the sun you can do it at home, not while you're on my time!" With that,  I stormed off to my office. My long jersey-coat-thingy flying behind me. I felt powerful (and much better actually) I felt like a super villan. Wonder Witch - yes, I was Wonder Witch! 

I can't think of a time that I have ever seen people more confused.  The poor women had no idea what had just happened. All four had run forward to attend to one child and all four were fighting over the cup to pour him juice. They were rattled. They were looking at each other with questioning expressions.  But no one said a word. They served the juice, patted the boy on the head and went back to their spot in the sun completely dazed by my attack.

Once in my office again, I realized I needed to visit the lavatory . This is a very happy event for me as I have a very slow, lazy 'constitution'.
As I sat on the throne and started my business I was relishing in my sly and cunning assault. I snickered and smiled an evil smile.  Now we were all upset. Yay, I was no longer 'suffering' alone. Finishing up, I reached out at the toilet roll holder and there ........ where the toilet paper usually sits.......... sat karma.

What on earth was I going to do now?

Since I'd just pissed everyone off I was stuck. I couldnt exactly call them to bring me bog roll.
Karma sat there laughing at me, laughing so hard she was snorting. Oh this was dreadful. I couldn't think. I was overcome with embarrassment. I couldn't exactly sit there all afternoon either - I had to do something. But what?

"Ok, ok... just let the dust settle for about 20 minutes." I thought to myself. "Then I can call Chante."
Chante is my youngest, most forgiving member of staff. But how was I going to call her without letting anyone else know I was embarrassingly stranded in the lav?
"Ah ha, I'll phone her." I thought.
And so I did.....
"Hello lovey" I said as sweetly as I could muster, when she answered her phone.
"Are you okay, Aunty Nat" She asked, obviously hearing some desperation in my voice. (I just can't hide these things)
"No, I'm not sweety!" I said.
"Im very upset today and it's not your fault so I'm really sorry for shouting,  but more importantly I need some loo roll right away. Will you bring me some please?"
"Of course Aunty Nat" she said "I'll be there right now."   I cannot begin to express how dear this young girl is. She saved me that day. But you can be sure she had a great big 'behind my back' giggle.

I may never have seen her laughing but I know she did. She laughed and laughed, I'm sure of it. And as for instant Karma..... she got me again. And she laughed too. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Patience is a virtue

For as long as I can remember, my mom has always said she believes that in this life time of mine I need to learn the art of patience. I think she's quite right - Patience is very far,(actually light years away),  from being one of my strong qualities.

After my unplanned suicide attempt with the bandage I thought better of it leaving my wrinkle problem in my own hands. Sometimes it's just best to let professionals do their jobs! So I went back to Dr Evil.

"Just pump me full of fillers!", I spat out.
"You are going to love this!" she exclaimed, trying to cheer me up.  "It makes a beautiful subtle difference. No one is going to know what's different, but everyone will notice a fresher more beautiful you!"  "This" she continued, "is much better than a face lift!"

The injecting started - I'm no sissy, but let me tell you, I felt a level of pain I was not prepared for. Jaw clenched and tears stinging my eyes, I lay there for almost an hour while she moved her little injection around and filled my face.
"Yes, yes, beautiful!" she said, every time she had finished an area.
"Well it better be," I kept thinking to myself. All this pain and all this money ... If I don't walk out of here looking like a 20 year old I may just have a coronary.

When she was done she handed me the mirror - "Just look" she said - "There is already a big difference."  I looked hard but couldn't see anything apart from the red dots from the needle pricks, and a not so pretty blue bruise on my chin.
"Wait for two weeks for the full effect and drink plenty of water in the meantime!" she instructed!
"Wait? What? Water? Is this woman mad?" I thought.
Perhaps she should have mentioned having to drink water after the procedure before she started.
I can't drink water. No! I have been preconditioned to live a very 'dry' life!  Water I cannot do!

Dreadful memories of my bed wetting days flooded my mind!
My poor folks tried everything. Star charts, presents, waking me up in the middle of the night, urologist visits - you name it!
Nothing worked - So they were left with no alternative but to seriously restrict my fluid intake!
They started off by saying that I couldn't drink anything after 6pm.  That didn't work - so they changed the time... nothing to drink after 4pm. That didn't work either.
Eventually, in a desperate attempt to help me wake up with a dry bed, my fluid intake was seriously restricted - all day, every day!
I eventually stop wetting the bed but got quite used to living the life of a camel, going extended periods without anything to drink.
At 42 years of age Dr Evil now wants me to learn a new trick!  I don't think so! I am a camel - not a puppy!
I just can't start wetting the bed again  - not now!
My marriage has survived many things: Fat wife,  thin wife, sane wife, crazy wife, lazy wife!
But bed wetting wife? No! I'm not prepared to put this one to the test! I could not put my marriage through the horror of bed wetting! NO!

It's been two weeks since I had my fillers. Has anyone noticed? NO!
Can I see a difference? NO!
Am I drinking water? HELL NO!
Has this caused me to waste a lot of money? HELL YES

So here I am - Not only am I still wrinkled but I'm out of pocket too!
On the bright side - I haven't wet the bed. I am thankful for this small mercy!

Toodles xx

A bright idea

After a lengthy discussion with myself I’ve decided that it’s going to take too long before I can rely on my son to treat my aging problem. Not that I don’t have confidence in him, I mean this kid is bringing home distinctions and all– but it’s going to be a number of years before he could potentially answer my prayers. So I have been seeking an ‘In the meantime quick fix!’ Something to get me through the next decade or so!

Fillers – Apparently this is the most popular non surgical route at the moment. So I booked my visit to the aesthetician. She had a real good look at my face! And even took some hideous photos – I swear that evil woman has an “ugly app” on her phone because she made me look worse than I have ever seen myself. She pointed out every flaw – most of which I had never even noticed. I mean, all I really didn’t like was the crow’s feet and the saggy jowls, but she made me see so much more…. And it was ugly – real ugly! Good marketing strategy there, Dr Evil! Well played!

Feeling more desperate than ever I said “Right – how much filler will I need to fix my face?” After some calculating she gave me what she referred to as a figure she had worked out on conservative amounts of filler that would be just enough to make me feel better, but not enough to make me wrinkle free! She proudly showed me her calculated total – TEN GRAND!

So fillers are not an option for me! I went home feeling glummer than Gilbert Grape. I ran a bath in the hope that I could soak away the nightmare images I had seen on Dr Evil’s phone hours earlier. As I took off my jersey I caught sight of my ‘muffin top’. Ordinarily I would have burst in to tears, but I was struck by the most ingenious idea I have ever had. THERE’S MY FILLER! I was going to use my muffin top to plump up my face! How you ask? Well, muffin tops are caused by tight pants on a chubby tummy so if I could wear some sort of body suit that pushed my muffin top up to my face then my problem would be solved!

I put on my tight jeans – My muffin top now ready for manipulating, I hauled out "the belly belt." I had been prescribed this belt – very kidney belt looking only much broader, after my hysterectomy – I put it on the tightest it could go and gawked at myself in the mirror. My muffin top had definitely moved – The belt was acting like a corset. It gave my lungs a new look! I quite liked the look! I knew Greg would to but quickly I reminded myself that my lungs were not my problem. I pulled the belt up over my lungs manipulating flesh and blubber but it just wouldn’t go in the direction I wanted it to and it ended up in my armpits. Now that was a sight. Fat armpits! Just beautiful! I kept manipulating my soft jelly bits, squeezing and wheezing along. While taking a break to give my arm muscles a little rest I happened to turn slightly and caught sight of my back in the mirror. Good heavens – I had given myself a hunch back. This was a disaster!

But I will not be defeated! So I ripped the belt off and headed to the medicine cabinet. I needed a bandage. If I tied the bandage around my neck tightly enough I could get the result I was looking for. And so I began the winding process. The bandage was pretty tight! I was taking short shallow breaths. I wasn’t concerned at first because I can hold my breath for about four minutes! I married an Olympic Flatulator – (Yes I know theres no such word but just shoosh, this is my story!) Anyhoo – the point is I’m used to holding my breath! The bandage was certainly creating some facial plumpness. I noticed I was looking redder than usual and my vision started to blur. I suddenly realised I was actually unintentionally committing suicide. The bandage was too tight, but any looser and there would be no effect! Just before passing out I managed to unwind the bandage! I am currently gulping air, but I am back at the drawing board! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED!

Toodles x

And so it begins

I have always been a "passionate" person. (I refrain from saying I have always been an obsessive person, because that just sounds so negative.)

My first passion was nail biting! From a wee little girl until13, I bit my nails - till they bled.

From 13 to 20 cigarettes were my thing. But, when Greg and I decided to have a baby, he who had never smoked a cigarette in his life, said no way could I carry his child while I was smoking. And so I very reluctantly gave up this passion.

After the pregnancy I developed my next obsession, oops, I mean passion... Being thin. I allowed myself a salad 3 times a week and thin I was. But after 3 years I wanted another baby. Try as we tried, nothing! The gynecologist advised that my body was in no condition to conceive and so my new passion became eating. I ate, I gained, I fell pregnant. Happy days! Unfortunately eating alone wasn't satisfying my passion needs so I took on another passion. Yes .... I was multi-passioning!

A 5 year passion in animal welfare lead me on an extreme path indeed. So extreme that I became a vegetarian, because eating animals was a cruel and vulgar practice. Living on bread alone I gained 30 kgs - in 9 months! No, there was not another "bun in the oven". I was just the size of an oven. A great big industrial oven. This passion left me with a 6cm hiatus hernia and I was strongly advised to lose weight.

So dieting became my passion again. But it was a half hearted passion this time. I mean I'd done this passion before. I was bored with it! So this passion didn't last long. I used work as a passion instead. I was working so hard that I didn't realize that I was gradually gaining weight again. With a dreadful bout of plantar fasciitis (in both feet) the ortho dude said I had to lose weight. AGAIN. And so a new passion emerged.

Banting! No, its not the same as dieting - it's far more controversial than dieting and so therefore cannot be seen as the same thing. 25kgs later I was feeling wonderful and not looking too bad either, but apparently it's frowned apon to walk around naked so I couldn't "show that shit off."

What is being "shown off" however, is the dreadful effects of aging. My face tells the tale of a chick who's young in the heart, old in the face and chronologically in between. I'm (not literally) dying for a face lift, but Greg says over his dead body. Since I'm strongly opposed to murder I'm stuck with my face.

So, a new passion emerges..... I am discretely trying to encourage my son to make me his "lab rat". He hasn't decided yet if he wants to go into bio chem or genetics but either way he could be the answer to my anti-aging prayers. Lord knows I have nurtured this kid, he owes me!! He could tweek my DNA and reverse the aging process for me - I could become the South African female version of Benjamin Button - Katinka Knoopie. Or, he could develop some miracle anti-aging cure and MY face could make HIM famous. He'd be rich and I'd be young! That's a win-win if you ask me.

I'm still working out the details of my current passion. All I can say is I'm passionately working on the plan. Standby for updates.

Toodles x