Nicknames

Everyone has a nickname or at least a name that they get called even if it is not one they have chosen for themselves.

I was recently emailing a friend and had a laugh. I have always emailed her and call her slapper every time. I can't for the life of me recall how she got that name.  All I know is that everyone called her that when we worked together and it stuck. In return she called me buggerlugs this week and I had a chuckle to myself remembering (surprised me too) that when I was little I used to get called the same thing. Now thinking about it more I got called a lot of lil nicknames growing up. None of which I ever picked for myself. 

These days the most common nickname I get is one more not one that I would have chosen for myself. It does however make for a good punishment. Before I tell you what it is I will tell you my recollection of how it came about (I am pretty sure that my sister will tell it differently).
When my sister was pregnant with her first child she asked what everyone wanted to be called. My parents are nan and pop. My brother was happy with just being an uncle. I on the other hand didn't want to be called aunty. (I have never been a fan of the word or the term. I don't know why, it just didn't sound right to my ears). I was given 9 months to work out what I wanted to be called or my sister was going to decide for me. In her eyes it wasn't respectful enough for me to just be called by my first name. At the time it didn't seem like such a hard thing to work out, but it turns out it wasn't as easy as I thought. 

9 months passed and so did my deadline. It wasn't until my oldest nephew started to talk that I realised that my nephew was learning to call me moo moo! Not exactly what I had in mind when I said that I didn't want to be called aunty.
Now another nephew is on the scene and between the two I have lucked out and frequently get called aunty moo or aunty moo moo.

I have up a long time ago trying to change their minds on what they call me. These days or kind of makes me smile. Like all nicknames though it really does encourage people to talk about it and how it came about. Part of me thinks my sister in her subtle way was calling me a cow for being difficult. Personally I don't care, it sure isn't the worst thing that I have ever been called.

My memory and crocheting

My memory at times can be a little iffy. Especially when I am trying to remember things from years ago. Like everyone I have my days where I get up, walk into a room and then forget why I am there. What scares me though is that sometimes it is the important stuff that I forget even when the conversation is recent.

I can look at old photos from my childhood and not remember when they were taken or who I am with, but I recognise the faces. They seem familiar and I never know if it is because of the photo or a memory. Through photos I know that I did gymnastics but I don't recall it at all. There are many such moments that I have no recollection of. It bothers me when I go to places and they seem familiar but I just can't place why they are so.

With this in mind it did however come as a surprise that I recalled learning to crochet as a child. Granted I don't remember if I was any good at it, but I remembered it so that was a starting point. Recently I decided to get a refresher on it and see if I could relearn it. Turns out that even though I remember nothing, but the fact that I used to know it, even after what I assume to be over 15yrs since I attempted it, I still have the skill.

It was a Friday night and while I was having some mother daughter time I asked mum to show me again. Now in the past I have been told that I used to try and learn it left handed. This time around I didn't care which way I learnt as my dexterity had improved in my opinion. Mum started me of and did a few rows before slowing it down for me. That was all that it tookfor me to pick it back up again. I can't describe what a rush that was. To realise that even though I can't remember some things about growing up, I still,  somewhere in my head, know them.

It was an even better thing to be on the train back home from a friend's place and be crocheting during the 45 minute trip. The best part was when a young girl asked me what I was doing and her grandmother explained it for me to her.

Sure I look like a nanna, but I don't care. At the end of it I am going to be the one who has a handmade blanket to keep me warm. Made by me with my blood (well that might be an exaggeration), sweat (it is hot in the Perth summer), tears (in frustration at the wool slipping off of the hook) and numb fingers. It will be worth it though!

Body Issues

I have body issues.

WOW, that is the first time that I have actually admitted it to myself. I think that in the back of my mind I have always had them, but have never been honest enough with myself to actually say it. It makes me feel a little lighter inside. Now I know that you are probably thinking, so what? Everyone has issues with how they look, and you would be right, I think that everyone does, but sometimes you need to be able to admit you have a problem before you can get past it.

So in a cathartic release I am going to admit the extent of my issues with my body. I am going to start at the top and work my way down for no other reason than to catalogue it all and hopefully make myself feel a little better after it.

My teeth – They are crooked and my mouth is overcrowded. They make my smile seem funny and not it a good way. For this reason I don’t like having to smile and it is one of the reasons that I hate having my photo taken.

My arms – They are flabby and no matter what I have tried to tone them over the years, nothing seems to work. I have given up trying to fix them now and instead would rather wear clothing that just hides them. Singlets and thin strapped tops/dresses are items of clothing that I will only wear around the house. If I am going out I will make sure that I throw on a jacket or bolero in order to be comfortable in my own skin.

My stomach – It is soft and flabby and in the way. I long ago came to terms with the fact that I was never going to be the size of a model, but it would be nice to dream to be smaller some days. Tops always either cling to my stomach or fall from my boobs which make me look like I have no waist. My waist is one of the things that I kind of do like about my body. It gives my body some kind of shape.

My hips and ass – Well where do I start? They are huge, wide and about 3-4 dress sizes different (depending on brand) to my waist and boobs. Finding jeans is an issue as are dresses that fall nicely. You don’t know clothing hell until you have tried to find a set of jeans that fit both your hips and waist when you have such a difference in size or find a dress or top that fits the boobs but doesn’t hug the hips too tightly. I don’t want to hide either entirely, but some days I don’t want to feel as much of a frump as what I look like. Finding clothes that fit and flatter can be a nightmare at times, but when I manage to find something I try and get it in as many colours as I possibly can and if that fails I find clothes with similar cuts on them. It has taken me a long time to work out what clothes work on me, but I think that I am finally getting there.

My legs – Well it is mainly my thighs. They are big they rub together and attribute to my jeans issue. It can be a struggle to find pants that go over my fat thighs. I haven’t worked out what is worse getting them over my thighs and have them not fit the hips or getting them stuck on the thighs and never getting them close to the hips. Either way it is enough to spiral into another round of body hating depression. My calves are not too bad but I tend not to show them off a lot as I am more comfortable in a set of jeans (when I can find them) or in recent times floor length skirts that fall nicely and hide some of my imperfections.

Now that is a lot of self hate, but I do actually feel better writing it down, well lighter again at least. In the interest of remaining honest with myself though I can admit to having a few things about my body that I do like. My waist, which I mentioned before helps define the area between my boobs and ass. In the right clothes I actually look slimmer than what I really am. My eyes, which no matter if I have glasses on or contacts in I still like them. They change colour between blue and green and seem to suit my face well. My hair, despite having to get it dyed every six weeks to cover the grey hairs that started coming through since I was 12 is one of the other things that I like about myself. It is currently red with blondish highlights in it. I have worn it long before and have had it short. It curls and waves a lot, but most days it is easy to manage which allows me to not have to worry about it too much on a work day. I don’t mind my skin either, while it is pale and prone to getting burnt, it is mostly blemish free and requires little effort for it to look half decent. Makeup is something that I rarely worry about as I feel that my skin is good enough without it.

If you have got this far and are still reading, stick with me for just a moment more while I tell you about what triggered this need to be honest with myself. This all started last weekend when I was convinced to try and find a set of bathers. It has been about 10yrs since I last owned a set of bathers and since then I haven’t been compelled to own another set for I just don’t needed them. I am not a fan of the beach and where possible I will avoid pools, spas and water playgrounds, not because I don’t own bathers but because I genuinely don’t really care for the water. Shopping on the weekend however didn’t seem like such an issue though as I had, in the back of my mind, forgotten what it felt like to look myself in the mirror while trying on a set of bathers in a change room. The lighting wasn’t the best, but I was actually thankful for that. I tried a tankini first and it wouldn’t sit properly over my hips so then I moved to a one-piece which even though it should have been my size, clearly wasn’t going to get over my ass. The next set I tried (and the last set mind you) were a size bigger and while I could get them on I looked in the mirror and quickly looked away again.  In the brief seconds that I looked at myself in the mirror I saw all of the things that I hate about myself staring back at me and the overall feeling of it left me feeling nothing short of a whale that if I went in public Greenpeace would be called in to rescue me. I fought back the tears as I got redressed, put the things back on the shelf and convinced myself that owning bathers just wasn’t for me. I know that I am probably missing out somehow, but for now I am just happy not to have to do that again anytime soon.

Next I am going to start bridesmaid dress shopping for my friend’s wedding in November. Wish me luck!