Merry Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas Eve everyone!

Oops has it been that long since I last blogged? Oh well that may have to be a next year's resolution.... perhaps, because to be honest, I'm as good at those as I am at producing regular blogs!

I just love Christmas, it's my favourite time of year, filled with lots of special memories. In particular that of Christmas mornings, even before the sun had chance to peep through the curtains (still haven't got me there Mynx), my Dad would call down from my parents' bedroom, crying out "Has he been?", "Has he been?". My sister and I would scramble excitedly out of bed to the lounge room to find the Christmas tree lights shining brightly over a multitude of different coloured parcels in random piles over the floor, the port and fruit mince pies that had been left nearby devoured.

Patiently waiting (what seemed an eternity, but was only a matter of minutes) for mum and dad to join us, we would distribute the presents one by one, making sure everyone had one to open. Opening each one and showing what we had, my dad would hoard his until the end, taking more pleasure out of watching us open our gifts. Then tormenting us by watching him open his to see what he had.

Over breakfast we would go through our gifts again, reliving the enjoyment of each one, while mum got ready for work. Mum was a nurse at a nursing home and always worked Christmas morning for a few hours, getting the residents ready for either their relatives to collect them, or those who didn't have anyone and were spending the day at the home getting them ready for the Christmas celebrations. The nursing home and staff made such an effort for those that were staying in to celebrate to ensure that they had a great festive time.

We would drop mum off at work and then come home and help dad get Christmas lunch preparations underway. And even though it would be stifling hot, he insisted we still had the glazed ham, stuffed turkey, usually a roast beef or pork, with roast potatoes, carrots, sprouts, beans and heavens knows what other vegetables. Mum would have organised the desserts the day before, usually pavlova, trifle and Christmas pudding, so the fridge was already heaving.

Then back to collect mum. My sister and I would spend time with each of the residents in the Christmas-decked-out lounge room, wishing them each a Merry Christmas and telling them about the gifts Santa had left us and what we would be having for dinner and who would be coming over to enjoy it. I never realised until much later how they enjoyed having my sister and me (and other children of the staff)coming and going throughout the day sharing part of it with them.

Getting back home preparations would be in full progress, tables being set, dinner constantly being checked, Christmas outfits changed into, before friends would arrive to share the day with us. Christmas Day was always an open invitation so friends who couldn't make Christmas dinner would visit later on in the afternoon and evening. Christmas Day at home was always full of excitement, food and drink and close friends coming and going and sharing the day late into Christmas night.

Now much probably to the horror of some, I must scoot and get a few last minute presents I still need to find - yes it's all part of the excitement of Christmas for me, the last minute shopping, crowds, wrapping gifts late in the evening. But before I do, try and take a few minutes to think of all of those people working over this Festive season, the nurses, doctors, health workers, police, firemen, support persons and their families making their small contribution to Christmas for us.

Multiskilling

Chatting to best friend in another State on phone, whilst cutting in ceiling (painting) on ladder, whilst drinking a glass of white classic and photographing event!

Pilates on a pole

Looking at me, my mother started to laugh.

I am certain nothing I do surprises mum anymore, however I do obviously provide her with a sense of enjoyment and a seriously good laugh. "So that's when men stuff notes down your g-string?", she asks, not stopping to wait for me to answer. "You will be able to get some of your debts paid off".

She looks at me, laughter erupting again, wiping tears, which had formed from this source of amusement, from her eyes. "Although you don't really have anything for them to look at, now if it was your sister...".

My foray into the realms of pole dancing was greeted with laughter and a critical-mother (as only they know how)-evaluation of my (lack of) success at this adventure.

The opportunity to learn to pole dance came about when the studio opened a venue close to where I live. My gym buddy excitedly emailed me with the news. We had been intending to go for a girl's night out at one of the other studios where you are shown the basics over champagne and chocolates. However, as often is the case, due to this person not being able to make this night, and that person not being able to make the alternative suggested night, then holidays, the girl's night never eventuated.

Determined that we were going to be pole dancers when we grew up, I checked out the website. "Pilates on a pole", "cheekiness", "femininity", "fitness", "fun", "confidence" were some of the descriptions which greeted me. I downloaded the timetable and information and emailed my friend the details and the date that we would be starting.

Lessons booked ... the fun to begin.

P Day arrives. Excitement bubbles over as I arrive at the deep fuscia pink studio, with black silk adorned chandeliers.

Introduced to the friendly instructor, I choose one of the brass poles. My friend arrives late and chooses a pole at the other end of the class, however we are both in eye shot of each other ... danger for when the giggles arise.

We start the class off with warm up moves. Toosh stuck right out, hips gyrate in a circular movement one way and then the other, squats with frantic bobs up and down, pole clasped sliding up and down.

Next warm up, abs. Images of a rich chocolate bath, as legs kick in and out seductively, falling into a false sense of ease, as this was followed by scissor kicks and jack knives, I'm thankful at this stage for my pilates classes, as the torture with this continued routine would have been felt.

Before we are shown how to walk seductively, we need to learn how to crawl. Out on all fours, prowling like lionesses, looking for "hubby's socks" or vacuuming under the sofa" never looked so sexy. Giggling as we are all on the floor moving forward theatrically.

The different steps to move gracefully, teasingly, from the floor to standing are practised as are the different ways to walk seductively, cheekily, as we traipse around the dance floor, following each other in a circle with over-exaggerated moves and more giggles.

Onto pole moves.

How to move around the pole, facing it, twirling so our back is against it, facing it again practised. Then before we are aware of what is to come, we are expected to twirl seductively down the pole. Silence... Intently watching the steps to the twirling motion. Ok, not so bad perhaps. right leg around pole, toosh pushed out, hips forward and push with left leg... I slide ungracefully straight down the pole, my legs a tangled mess on the floor... ok not quite the success, or look I was hoping for. I look around the class, phew not the only one... we practice the move over and over again, until finally success, I can twirl down the pole. Now to twirl in the opposite direction. More practice, more twirls, more giggles.

The evening finishing off with putting all the moves we have learnt into the beginnings of a choreographed act. Next week can't come soon enough!

Naked in the boardroom

There is a certain vulnerability about standing naked in front of stranger, in an environment that is not quite the norm for such activities.

I wondered how many others have been in a similar situation, standing completely as nature intended in the Boardroom... two that I am aware of and one to follow.

Arms raised in a Barbie doll pose as the cold sensation hits my body. I shudder and my body involuntarily flinches each time the overpowering cocoa scented, mud coloured, cold spray is applied to each section of my warm body.

Long, continuous strokes as instructions are provided... turn slightly, move your legs slightly apart, one in front of the other now, raise arms, close your eyes and hold your breathe, don't squint.

The whole process takes less than 10 minutes, however it is all part of the female ritual of getting tizzed and glammed up for the Company's Anniversary Ball and Award evening. The ritual commencing approximately 6 weeks prior.

A ritual with a strict time frame.

The ritual commencing with an organised girl's day out searching for the dress and matching accessories. What girl does not like such a day out shared with a friend? Especially when discovering an outlet that still provides excellent customer service. Cups of tea, served in fine white china, and biscuits offered and accepted. A section dedicated to dresses and gowns reduced at amazing prices. Girlie heaven.

Discovering racks of treasures of glamorous colour, textures and lengths. Arms ladened with a myriad of choices to be tried on, giggled over, assistance provided with zips and hooks, deep breaths in as the zip will zip up, oohs over each dress as it is modelled. An hour (or so) later, success, gowns secured.

A much needed lunch break, to recover from such exhausting activity, and time to discuss fervently what matching jewellery and shoes are required. Replenished with refreshments, next stop the nearby shopping centre. Three shoe shops and five fashion shops later, matching shoes and sparkling bling acquired. Time for cappuccino and skinny late before heading home to try on and prance and preen in front of home mirror with recent purchases.

The next ritual in this precision time frame, hair appointment a week prior to the event. Hair trimmed, colour applied and discussion with the hairdresser over the different options hair could be styled for the evening, appointment made for the afternoon prior to the event.

A week of daily exfoliating leading up to the present ritual of standing naked in front of a stranger, in a mobile, three sided tent having a spray tan applied, the evening before the Ball. Organised by a work colleague. The only appropriate area for the mobile set-up, the Boardroom.

The spraying over, the tan's wetness is dried off with a dryer. As I put on my loose fitting clothes I cheekily wonder what Board members would think at such activity occurring in their room, if only they knew!

By special request

For two special people ... Your request!

Just another Sunday...

"Remove your jacket and tuck your top in, it will be more comfortable".

Sure, if that is going to make me feel any more comfortable than I am... not. "Arms to your side and relax". I stand in front of her, my black top tucked securely in my vibrant blue bra.

It had been a fairly quiet weekend. Well compared to the previous weekend's adrenaline pumped weekend, where I had completed my first trial bike ride, 42 km of gravel dirt track, downhill being the ultimate rush.

So this Sunday, restlessness started to creep in. By lunch time I had made up my mind. I mean I had been intending to do this for some time now.

I look down at her and admit that I'm not normally good at this sort of thing. My problem is that I had Googled the subject and read all the gory details. Her pretty face smiles reassuringly at me, "it will be quick and you won't really feel a thing, the worst part is making the decision". She seems to be enjoying this more than me, I smile wryly.

Calipers in one hand, marker pen in the other as she marks two dots, measuring carefully. "Ok relax again," as she examines the marks she has made closely.

Metal clamps are removed from a sterile packet. I avoid looking at the other packet. She clamps my skin. "If I give you the clamps just hold tight and lie down on the bed". I make my way to the black vinyl covered bed and lower myself onto it, holding onto the clamps firmly. While she unwraps the other sterile packet.

Staring at the ceiling, listening to customer voices in the background. Strangely, I thought I would feel more nervous than this.... no butterflies... no stirrings in the lower stomach.... no nausea. I put my surreal calmness down to the glass of sparkling I had at lunch time and conveniently forgot about when completing the consent form.

Closing my eyes as I lay there, she takes the clamps from me. "You'll feel the bed move up. Relax and put your arms comfortable. You might want to put that arm to the side, just in case you jerk". I move my right arm off my stomach and lay it to my side.

"Ok, relax. Deep breath in". I suck the air in deeply, eyes still closed. I feel a pressure against my clenched skin and for a brief instant the skin being broken. I tense more at the sensation rather than the brief moment of pain.... although I couldn't really call it pain, not pain how I had envisaged at any rate.

"Another deep breath in." The air rushes into my lungs as I feel the sensation of the teflon encrusted jewel being inserted into the piercing. Not an uncomfortable feeling, just an unusual feeling. The top gem ball needs to be changed as it is not screwing onto the teflon bar. Quickly the new replacement is put into place.

"Ok, would you like to have a look?", she asks smiling. I stand and turn to the mirror, slight redness above the new piercing, but all I really notice is the sparkling purple gem, I had chosen when I first entered the room, shining at my navel. I smile broadly. I love it and thank her. She smiles back at me.

Instructions and saline solution are provided for the aftercare. I will need to return in about a month's time to have the teflon bar trimmed. She writes her name on the provided instructions and tells me if there are any problems at all to give her a call or to come in and see her.

Making my way back to the car, I take a photo with my phone and email it to my sister, the only words... I've done it :). I also send a quick text message to the cub, knowing he would be laughing at me and my drama queeness about the whole procedure.

Note to self

Note to self: when allowing a tall, cute, blonde, air crewman to use my phone to take a photo.... Give him enough instruction so he doesn't inadvertently get to my photo album, especially the photo of this month's bare chested, all ab Mens Health mag pin up.... What a laugh tho!