Today hubby called me Mumsy. OK so he didn't directly say, you're Mumsy but I was describing what a mum at school looked like and he said so Mumsy like you.
In all fairness to hubby some things do sometimes get lost in translation and he hadn't realised that I would take it negatively.
But it wounded me. Mumsy... Was he right?
OK I have changed an age group bracket in the last couple of years and sometimes when I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective surface I do a double take. I am starting to look more like my mother.
When I stop and take a good look in the mirror I can't deny the extra lines around my eyes but the party girl is still there bubbling under the surface. The one who was always the last one home, the woman with the hollow legs who kept up with the boys at the match day drinks, the sexy, naughty, often cheeky, life of the party.
Where did that girl go? I aren't ready to give her up just yet...
I am sure that she's still here, hiding behind the mummy facade.
And don't get me wrong, I don't regret anything, I don't want that life again. Yes is was fun. Yes I had many great nights with fantastic friends but...
We spent a lot of our time talking about and looking for love. We were that band of sisters (more like trembles in Teesside than Sex and the city) but we enjoyed every minute so I have no regrets! I didn't meet hubby until I was 30 so I had plenty of "me" time.
Nowadays I choose to spend my money on new bikes and computer games for the boys instead of new nails and pedicures. My wardrobe may not be full of the latest fashions but I do try and keep up to date. The salon cut and colour may have given way to a box from the chemist. But I don't regret anything and I certainly haven't given up!
My priority is them, them, them and not me, me, me!
But don't misunderstand, I am not a martyr either. I work hard at work and at home. I deserve it. Neglecting yourself can lead to resentment. I don't want or need that. I do not feel guilty about treating myself to something new but now every week is replaced with every once in a while. If you have the disposable income for salon trips, fair play to you!
mumsy: giving an impression of dull domesticity; dowdy or unfashionable
Mumsy, seriously. I never thought that would apply to me!
Perhaps I need to look at myself again? Make myself more of a priority. Get that butterfly tattoo I've been wanting for ages, buy clothes from the more in-trend stores or colour my hair. Loose those extra Kilos. Invest more in myself. Or perhaps it is more about allowing myself more time to actually be me, not mummy, not teacher, not wife but me!
I decided not to care about my pasty, British legs and threw on my shorts and headed for the supermarket. A car full of young men stopped to let me across the zebra crossing and someone wolf whistled. I looked around to make sure there wasn't some gorgeous young thing walking behind but no there were whistling at me!
Woo hoo! Goodbye Mumsy woman, hello Mrs Robinson...