A Fresh Start

Chaos reigns supreme in my house. From my bulging handbag full of sweet wrappers, tissues, old lipglosses and crumbs to my Jenga style in-tray – I’m too scared to pick a letter off it just incase the whole lot topples over! Clutter is everywhere. I can’t see what books I have on my shelves anymore because obscuring them is ‘tat’ like broken TV controls, a bottle of moisturiser, a tin of quality street containing more tat…you get the picture. There isn’t a home for everything in my house, there’s just a ‘tat mountain’ that keeps on growing.

But…

When I move into my new house, in the words of Little Angel, everything will be ‘fresh’. And so I am determined to keep everything neat and tidy and make sure everything will be – and stay – in its rightful place. So determined am I that I’ve began to fervently scour clutter busting options on line – and blimey, there really is a storage solution for everything isn’t there? My Nanny Ciss who tried in vain to teach me to be tidier, would giggle in her grave if she heard me say what’s coming next but I’m loving the Lakeland website!  It’s just so foxy and seductive with its adjectives like dust-proof, slimline and stackable… It really makes me believe that if I buy these things I will automatically become Domestic Goddess 2012.

In reality, my Lakeland buys will probably wind up shoved in a cupboard underneath a selection of mismatched shoes and too small coats. But I hope not.

Here’s my first buy in the hope of keeping tidy Brit Style

Have you got any favourite storage solutions or tips on keeping your house clutter free? If so, feel free to share them with me!

Tags: domestic goddess, Home, Jenga, Lakeland, storage solutions

My Happy Pills

Do you remember the film Pollyanna? The1960 Disney movie adaptation of the best selling 1913 children’s novel by Eleanor H Porter, told the story of an impossibly upbeat child (played by the lovely Hayley Mills) with a remarkable – or some might say, unfeasible – optimistic outlook. For instance, if you told Pollyanna her arm was falling off she’d say something like “Why, thank you for drawing my attention to that my sweetheart, but please, I’d hate for you to worry about me, I’ll be fine – look, see! I have another perfectly good arm. Everything will be absolutely fine!” Yeah, yeah. I loved the story when I was a little girl as I thought it took big ones to be happy in the face of adversity and to keep your pecker up – so to speak – when things were looking down.

Some might say I have a touch of the Pollyanna’s about me. I am a naturally perky, smiley person, I suppose, and I do like to look on the bright side of life, but flipping hell, this run of gloomy weather has really tested my mood. I know there are a lot worse things happening in the world than a few (few!?) grey, rainy days, but I’ve discovered – and so has my poor suffering family -that I’m obviously prone to a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder, S.A.D.  Put it this way, I’ve seen Stressed Husband tremble with fear as a dark cloud rolls over the sun – not fear of how much money he could lose on jobs if he has to shut his building sites down due to rain – oh no – fear of what might lay in store for him as my mood quickly turns like the weather from bright to black…

But…. and here is the good news. Yep, in true Pollyanna style, I’ve discovered a few things that help cheer me up when I’m feeling down and I think they’ll see me through the worst of this vile weather. I call them my Happy Pills…

ZUMBA – I can guarantee that if I start a Zumba class feeling ready to do damage to the next person that even looks in my general direction, by the end of it, the cheesy Latino tunes and bouncy, shake-your-booty dance moves will have worked their magic. And just like that famous beer advert, Zumba sends those feel good endorphins rushing through my body refreshing the parts (my miserable brain) that other exercise classes just can’t reach.

The Real Housewives of Orange County - If it’s possible to have a crush on a TV programme, then this is my crush. It may be shallow and tacky but sometimes my brain  just cries out for a quick shot of escapism – a quick fix of saccharine sweetness that gives me glamour, gossip, fashion, beauty, botox, great bodies, bitching, friendship, love and best of all SUNSHINE! It’s so good I blogged it twice.

Chocolate and Wine – Who doesn’t feel just a bit better when their gob is crammed with creamy, dreamy, milk chocolate? I try not to do the guilt thing afterwards where you think about how many calories you’ve just consumed and then feel even worse before you ate it. No, I enjoy the moment and tell myself my body ‘needed’ it. And wine? Well, if it’s pink and bubbly then even better but a lovely glass of wine once the day’s work is done can be a real pick me up – as long as I don’t drink too much and then it’s a lay me down!

Friends and Family - Sharing funny emails/texts and having good nights out with friends and family – people who you know really care about you – has a way of making you realise that even when the skies are grey and you’re feeling a bit poo, you really should take a leaf out of Monty Python’s book and look on The Bright Side of Life…

Cuddling my dog and online shopping are also a couple of my favourite mood lifters – what are your Happy Pills?

Tags: family, friends, Hayley Mills, Latino, Life of Brian, Monty Python, Pollyanna, Real Housewives of Orange County, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Walt Disney Motion Pictures Group, wine, Zumba

How to Raise Terrific Teens

I don’t want to suggest for one minute that I’m the almighty Oracle when it comes to bringing up grounded teenagers. Oh no. Nor am I Supernanny standard or some kind of controversial expert like baby ‘training’ guru, Gina Ford. I would like to call myself the Teen Whisperer – but if you’re bringing up teens, you know there’s certainly no whispering going on – Teen Hollerer would be more apt. But I’m not that. I’m just a mum of 2 teens and 1 tween doing the best I can. I also think that having the experience of bringing up teenagers of both genders means I sort of understand the differences between them as they grow, ie: boy teens are more prone to sulky silences and girls love a bit of drama and like to be heard…and by that I mean get-the-ear-plugs-ready H-E-A-R-D!!!!!!!! So, take it or leave it, but here are my top tips for raising terrific teens…or at least teens that you don’t feel you need to bundle in the closet before inviting around anyone you’re trying to impress…

DON’T TRY TO BE THEIR ‘FRIEND’ – Of course, I don’t mean don’t be friendly; I love nothing better than swapping shoes with Teen Queen (well, it’s more her nabbing my stuff really because I’m not that great with heights), enjoying shopping trips and chatting about who’s hot and who’s not on TOWIE etc…but when push comes to shove it doesn’t matter how old your kids are they need a mum’s guidance and discipline. So, we might have clothes swapping sessions but I’ll be on at her to clear it up after and not leave the room like a pigsty and I’ll always make sure I’m still tough on them keeping up the basics such as politeness, table manners, hygiene and general good behaviour. I know those life lessons should be ground in to them from a small child but you’d be suprised at how things ‘drop’ when they spend more time with their peers and less with their parents. So, basically, keep on nagging – they love it really.

LET THEM BE THEMSELVES: One of the biggest shockers about your perfect child growing into a teenager is that one day you wake up and aren’t sure who they are anymore. Who is that gangly, deep-voiced adolescent who’s eaten all the Sainsbury’s delivered food before you’ve even had time to unpack the bags, then chucked the wrappers on the floor before slinking back to his dark and dingy pit?  These strange boy-men morph from curly, blonde haired cherubs with round, rosy cheeks, to shaven haired, eyebrow-pierced giants who care more about music and girls than spending even an hour in your presence. But don’t be sad. It happens and when you get over the shock, it’s not really that bad. Honest. Be warned though, it’s  not just the looks that change, they begin to develop their own tastes in everything from music to politics and it can be quite alarming to find out that they might not think like you or even how you thought they would think. That’s the bit I found hardest to accept –  they aren’t like you, they aren’t that  ’mini-me’ you romantically imagined as you caressed your bump before giving birth. But really, you need to give yourself a pat on the back because you’ve given them the confidence and inquisitiveness to go out into the world and not just accept that mum and dad’s views are the right ones, but to question them and make their own decisions. I’ve found that our differences make for some pretty heated debates around the kitchen table and sometimes they actually teach me a thing or two.

TALK, TALK, THEN TALK SOME MORE: After the constant 24/7 parenting that younger children need, it’s quite a relief when your children become more independent as it leaves you a little freer with your time. But it’s a big mistake to assume that just because they grunt an acknowledgement to you as they shuffle through the door after school and up to their room, that everything is okay. It probably is, but I’ve found it helps to find a moment to chat with them one on one. Getting together around the dinner table is good but not always an option with all the after school activities/homework etc that goes into a normal day. Always let them know that you’re there for them to talk, even if they think you might be cross or disappointed with what they’ve got to say – there’s always a way to get around problems if you talk about it.

I noticed recently that Little Angel was clamming up, staying in her room a lot and generally being much less forthcoming with tales from the classroom and I finally decided to have a word with her about it. I mentioned I was a bit worried about why she wasn’t telling me anything about a boy I knew she liked (I’d heard through a friend and wanted to check it out) and after a lot of umming and ah-hing,  she confessed:  “I’m scared to tell you mummy because daddy told me that if I have a boyfriend before I’m 21 that he will turn him upside down and put him in the dustbin!” 

And in the words of My Boy and his band The Pieces, if we don’t get it, perhaps we’re just Too Old To See…

Tags: Adolescence, family, Gina Ford, Home, Parent, Supernanny, teenagers, The Pieces, Youth

Earning Their Keep

I will never forget my first trip to Mothercare when I was 5 months pregnant with Teen Queen. How much for a packet of Pampers? Sorry? How can you justify more than a fortnight’s wages on a pram?! Stressed Husband and I didn’t have a clue where to start and so enlisted the help of an assistant who resembled a ‘kind aunty’ and who, unbeknownst to her, changed our lives forever: “Oh, you must have plenty of breast pads and remember, muslin cloths are a life-saver” Stressed Husband and I just followed her like robotic sheep, popping strange item after even stranger item into our trolley. We didn’t have a clue what half the paraphernalia was that we were buying, or how to use it. All I knew was that once we got to the checkout SH grew white as he emptied his wallet and as I looked down at the expensive Russell and Bromley pumps I’d worked hard for (I could see past my bump if I stuck my foot out) I realised my spending days were over. Well, no actually. My spending days on me were over, but on the bump, they were just beginning…

Fast forward a few years and as our brood grew, we got used to the change in our spending habits. Now there were 5 of us, we spent more than we ever did but not on things we particular liked; gone were the romantic meals for two at fashionable restaurants, instead it was plastic meals out at dodgy eateries with plucky names like Wacky Warehouse or Charlie Chalks, where we sacrificed quality of food for the gaudy, germ ridden ball pit that kept the kids amused and us free to knock back the wine in a restaurant where the kids didn’t moan about being bored. In or house, the motto definitely was: “happy kids, happy parents” and so that was the way of life in the Writeonmum household until now…

Not that we don’t want our kids to be happy, of course we do, but now that Teen Queen is 18 and My Boy 16, it is definitely time that we got some – as Lord Sugar would put it – return in our investment…or at least a little help and a break from the constant emptying of our purses for singing lessons, football tickets, nights out, days out, new shoes, festivals, new shoes again…the list, as any parent of teenagers knows, really is endless.  Be warned parents with toddlers, it’s much more expensive than having little ones. And so, resulting from the conversation below, SH and I felt things were going to have to change…

My Boy: Ere mum, I bet my mate Barcelona would beat Chelsea

Me, reading magazine and not listening too intently: That’s nice.

My Boy: Yeah, but Barcelona lost.

Me: And…

My Boy: So, I bet him that if they lost I’d have my eyebrow piereced.

Me:……YOU WHAT?! 

My Boy: So, like, I’ve been checking online and it’s gonna cost, like, £30 or £40 quid. And I’ve spent my birthday money so can you pay for it?

Me: CENSORED (this is a family blog, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you how the conversation went, though I shall leave that to your imagination).

And now, after ‘The Talk’ which, summed up,  pretty much told the teens that if they didn’t start earning their own money then they weren’t going to get any from us. They could stamp their feet, sulk (oh my, they are good at that), swear (under their breath or in their room), or hate us, but we were not going to keep dishing it out for them to have everything their little hearts desired. Been there. Done that. So, now My Boy is working hard at weekends on our new house to pay for his eyebrow piercing!

And Queen Teen has just got a job as a waitress in a local restaurant.But judging by her list of Clothes I Need - I love how she writes need rather than want as if her life actually depends on it – I’m really hoping they are paying her well.

What about Little Angel? Well, she is obsessed with making videos and movies and is saving up her pocket money for some high-tech editing software that costs an arm and a leg and is only compatible with an iPad or iMac, which costs the other arm and leg. I tried explaining to her that perhaps she should be aiming slightly lower – else, totting up her allowance, she’ll be saving until she’s at least 20! But she said ‘It’s okay, daddy will help me pay’.  Uh-oh, I think I can feel ‘The Talk’ coming on…

Tags: Alan Sugar, Barcelona, festivals, iMac, IPad, Mothercare, new shoes, Pampers, piercing, Queen Teen, Talk

Celebration Time!

I’ve been off the blogsphere for a few weeks due to a manic schedule of work, new home renovations, the old Pearly King and Queen of Malaga (nan and grandad) descending on our home again, a holiday in Turkey (what holiday? I need another!) and the Celebration of the Year – Mean Teen’s 18th!

Forget the blooming Diamond Jubilee, the stress I was under at organising Mean Teen’s party and getting the perfect presents has left me a quivering wreck. I reckon taking on Your Maj’s Jubilee shindig would be a doddle in comparison. But, really, it was my own fault. I spent too much of my time, money and sanity making sure Teen Queen (her new moniker as she isn’t really Mean anymore!) had things just right, but you know what? It was worth it to watch my big girl’s face as I surprised her with a trip to the amazing Long Bar at the Sanderson Hotel

Teen Queen had her first birthday drink – and was nearly legal at last! No faffing around for fake IDs anymore and lectures from me because I didn’t touch a drop until I was 18 (ahem…)

And on the day of her birthday, Stressed Husband did her proud while bleeding his bank account dry as he took her on a shopping spree…

And that evening a few friends and family celebrated with her at the gorgeously girly Butterfly Bar at Itsu in Notting Hill…

It seems incredible to think that I’m old enough now to be a mum to an 18 year old and even more incredible that I don’t get a gasp of “No! You can’t be, you don’t look old enough!” When I tell people I have an 18 year old!

But now the party is over and the pink and silver bunting  and deflated balloons are hanging tiredly from the kitchen cupboards – just like the bags under my eyes and Stressed Husband’s empty wallet – and as I look around at the gorgeous gifts Teen Queen received, it makes me smile inside that,  just like the baby she was that preferred to play with the box rather than the expensive present inside, her favourite presents are these…

Every diva’s favourite diva and…

A thermos so she can have a hot cup of coffee to perk her up on her way to college!

Happy Birthday my gorgeous girl! xx

Tags: 18th birthday, Butterfly Bar, Diamond Jubilee, Itsu, London, Notting Hill, party, Pearly Kings and Queens, Queen, Sanderson Hotel, Teen

The Crazy Rainbow House

Welcome...

I was so very excited to get the keys to our new house yesterday and for those of you who know me, you will know that the excitement has nothing to do with the state of the house – it’s a dung heap! I just couldn’t wait to see it again without the previous owner following us from room to room making it impossible for me to laugh at the hideous decor because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was a nice chap really, with a fixation on bikes (over 20 in the shed and a further 15 in rooms around the house) and colourful radiators…

So, pretend that I’m your average estate agent – all jolly smiles and hand shakes – and here we go…

So madam, this is the lovely blue radiator…

Which I believe makes a lovely feature against the peeling wallpaper and wonky floorboards. And this….

Is the lovely green radiator which I think you’ll find a charming diversion from the pipes poking up from the floor and the little mouse that just scurried across the room. Now, moving on…Here you will see the most remarkable…

Yellow radiator, that I’m sure you’ll agree blends in very nicely with the unidentifiable stains on the curtains. I do so love a coloured radiator Madam, don’t you?

Erm…

But let me show you this wonderful left over piece of Parmesan cheese and half eaten packet of Haribo that are growing green mildew and have been kindly left by the previous owner to make the kitchen drawers smell so…tantalising. Yes, I can see by your face that you’re astonished such edible delicacies would be left behind…

Now, you will be the envy of your neighbours when you invite them to use this…

A thoroughly modern, high tech outside cloakroom with its very own cobwebs and spiders the size of a small dog. Very tasteful.

And here we have another subtly decorated room…

I find the red, gloss paint and damson coloured carpet such a relaxing choice of colour for a bedroom. And of course, no des res would be complete without…

The avocado bathroom Madam! Your husband did put in a special request for this feature as he knew you held a special fondness for this shade of bathroom suite.

Well, there you have it Madam. I’m sure you will be very happy living in your beautiful new home and you’re very lucky that it is already so stylishly decorated leaving you little work yourself.

Ah. Before I go, there is just one thing I need to warn you about but you mustn’t let it alarm you. There has been talk of a crazy man, a Hobit like creature, that lives in your garden shed but I’m sure he is harmless…

Oh dear. I guess he’ll just have to stay.

Tags: Des-res, Estate Agent, garden shed, Haribo, Hobit, Home and Garden, madam, Parmesan cheese, Radiator

Cobblers to the Cobbler’s Shoes!

Don’t know if you know the story of the Cobbler’s Shoes? Basically it’s about a poor old man who works his fingers to the bone making and repairing shoes for the whole of the village (bless him) yet his own family go around shoe-less because he’s so poor and can’t afford to make shoes for them – hmm, he obviously didn’t graduate from business school. Anyway, the reason I bring this old fable to my blog is because, at the moment and metaphorically speaking, Stressed Husband is that cobbler. I’m not saying that me and the kids are running around the streets of W4 with newspapers on our feet – that would be silly – although there are some nice men and women who frequent the local park with cans of Stella who would beg to differ on that one. But, what I mean is that SH is a builder – he builds great, humongous houses, mansions that are fit for fairytale Princesses and we live in…rented accommodation. I know, it would make a much better fairy tale if I said that we lived in an old, dilapidated hovel, but unless you’re Posh Spice, life is not a fairytale. However, that said, our house isn’t what it looks like on the outside (quite pretty) it is in fact, the house that Jack Twat built – and I’m sick of having to call the management agents at least once a fortnight with tales of blown down fences, leaky taps, flicking living room lights, dodgy electrics and kitchen doors that fall off their hinges every time they’re opened! Grrr.

Back to the cobblers…So there was the old man – Mr Choo or Blahnik – working really hard at making beautiful shoes but he just couldn’t finish them and he would go to bed at night worried about this. However, luckily for him, elves would visit at night (as they do) and finish them for him. I suppose the comparison here is that SH panics in the evenings, sleeping restlessly and gibbering in his sleep about ceilings falling down – he even sleepwalks sometimes, with his measuring tape in his hand (no, don’t be rude, that’s not a euphemism!). But, when he wakes up and drives down to his sites, it seems that his elves (mostly of the Polish variety) have actually done a pretty good job and lo and behold, eventually, with the help of his team of elves, stunningly beautiful houses appear!

Unlike the wife in the Cobbler’s Shoes who does a ‘merry jig’ with her husband when she sees the beautiful shoes that the fairies make, I don’t take that much delight in the houses SH makes (I am proud though and think he’s pretty clever). Instead, I grumble and moan about the fact that “You build houses like that for other people, but you can’t/won’t fix the cupboard door!”  And now that we are about to complete (on Monday, yay!) on a run down property that we want to make into a lovely, family home, I dread the thought of living like I have in every house we’ve ever owned, among dust and rubble with half finished kitchens and avocado bathroom suites circa 1970. Yum!

Recently, our story, unfortunately, took on a bit of a sinister turn when jealous goblins decided that they would try and spoil SH’s luck and hard work and started a malicious and untrue blog about his company. These goblins, were very sneaky, as SH has been to the police and to various lawyers to try and get this malicious content removed from the internet, but for some reason (to do with freedom of speech, I think) they cannot. And as it is a Google blog, Google’s policy is to let people write whatever they want and never censor anything. Of course, we believe in freedom of speech but it’s pretty damned annoying when it’s nasty nonsense. Luckily for SH, he has enough Knights in Shining Armour (his clients) who have come across this disgusting blog and know that it is complete drivel. Apart from the fact that the naughty goblins can’t spell to save their skanky lives – anyone who knows SH and has read the vitriolic blog says it is quite obviously written by a desperate and pathetic person. Thankfully, SH’s clients know that the work he does speaks volumes and they are always happy to recommend his company, Barrett Horton, to prospective clients.  Do those horrid goblins not realise that their evilness can’t take away the truth that the proof is in the pudding (or property)…

And once SH’s company website is up and running (in the next few days) those awful goblins will disappear in a puff of green smoke.

So, wicked goblins be gone and SH get your elves ready to renovate my rickety old shack because I am one fire-breathing dragon you won’t want to cross if I don’t finally get my castle!

Tags: Barrett Horton, BHG, Builder, Cobblers, Daily Mail, elves, fairytale, goblins, House Builders, houses, John Barrett, Knights in Shining Armour, London, London Builders, mansion, Shoes

A Little of What you Fancy Does you Good

A few relatively short bursts of intense exercise, amounting to only a few minutes a week, can deliver many of the health and fitness benefits of hours of conventional exercise. What do you think about that little bit of research from the most recent episode of BBC2 Horizon then? Being more of a Big Fat Gypsy Weddings or Any Trash Reality TV Programme kind of girl, I didn’t actually watch Horizon, I was informed of its contents by a local Stay at Home Dad (SAHD) who I sometimes bump into on my daily dog walk.  I was just moaning about going off for another exercise session when he dropped the ‘did you know some people only need to do 3 minutes….’ bomb. What?! There’s me, slogging my saggy butt off for up to 4 classes a week when ‘research has shown’ I could just run around my front room a couple of times and spend the rest of the hour eating cake?! Ok, it didn’t exactly say I could eat cake, but…

I thought I’d look into this 3 minute malarkey and of course, there’s a catch, it’s all in the genes. So on the other end of the scale to those lucky, lucky people who need just 3 minutes to be fit and healthy, some people (I bet I’m included) could train for hours on end, busting a gut,and still never get any further than being moderately fit. Wow. Bummer. But there’s an upside to this, just as our old nans told us ‘everything in moderation’ and ‘a little of what you fancy….’ is probably the best way to live our lives in order to stay sane and balanced. Here’ s my philosophy on a happy, balanced lifestyle:

* You must eat cake: Well, seeing as we’ve now been told that eating 5 a day of fruit can rot our teeth and the acids in fruit juice are akin to drinking neat paint stripper (oh, now I’m exaggerating, but you get the jist) I’ve decided that every day I won’t force another apple down, I will replace 1 of my 5 a day with a cupcake.

* You should walk and not run: Like teacher used to yell at you down the corridor, I firmly believe that you should ‘walk and not run’ to be happy. Me and my workout buddies LLL and FFJ sometimes (well a few times last summer) ran the 3 mile river route nearby. And that’s okay if like LLL you have legs like a gazelle – or even Giselle

But…I haven’t! And it hurts and I don’t feel good when I’m running (I feel sick!) So, I will still do my river route because it is beautiful and the scenery makes my heart skip (when I’m not throwing up) but I shall walk it briskly instead. And another thing with running, the way my jowls are quickly descending southward bound, they don’t need the extra jiggle power that running will give them. So I would need to invest in a face bra if I don’t want to wind up looking like this:

You must dance every day: Again, like walking rather than running, dancing is fun and natural and makes you feel upbeat and happy – especially if you’re dancing to music you really enjoy. On the upside, a half an hour of shaking your booty (wobbling your bum) can burn 150 calories! Downside: If your kids see you, they will either choke laughing or cry with shame. But strangely to me, even that is an upside! Haha – kids, look – watch mummy Samba!

Limit your alcohol but enjoy a nice glass: I found it a bit of a wake-up call when official figures revealed that middle aged men and women are five times more likely to drink every day than those in their teens and early twenties – and women more than men. Of course I understand the health implications of drinking too much, but did you ever see that nightly glass of wine in front of the TV at night as too much? I didn’t, but I do now. So, for the last few months I’ve had at least 3 nights off the booze a week and only drink a couple of glasses at the weekends. I feel much better for it and I enjoy it much more.

Have a laugh: Whether it’s moaning and laughing with your friends about your mad family and realising (thank heavens!) that we are, as mums, all in the same barmy boat, or giggling with your kids about the latest ‘naughty’ trick they’ve got up to (some of them we don’t laugh at My Boy!) I truly believe that making time out to have a chat with a friend, sister, brother, husband – anybody that lifts your spirits, is the greatest way to stay sane in this loony world of ours.

So, in the words of your old nan – smile and the world smiles with you

Tags: cupcake, dance, Giselle, Horizon, nan, Physical exercise, river

Happy 40th Birthday Cosmo!

What words come to mind when you think of women’s most famous glossy magazine, Cosmopolitan? I’d hazard a guess that the following might pop up: glamour, power, fashion, sexual equality, fun…blow-jobs. I know! Can’t believe I just said that either – but as a former Cosmo staff girl myself – beauty assistant circa 1986 – I will never forget the hilarity in the office as I listened agog to the features team discussing whether the words ‘blow job’ could go on the front page or whether it would offend. As a wet behind the ears 19 year old, I thought that particular features meeting was so sophisticated and cool and giggled away to my fashion assistant friend about what my mum would think that night when we ate dinner at the kitchen table and she asked “So what did you get up to at work today love?”  and I replied nonchalantly “Oh nothing really, just discussing blow-jobs.”  Cue choking and much patting of mum’s back.

But, besides the blow-jobs and naked male centrefolds, Cosmo content was a lot more than just sex. It was part of the magic of my youth. When I’d got bored with the cheesy photo stories in My Guy and the lame problem page in Jackie (you’ve got spots? Big deal – pick them like the rest of us!! Don’t know how to kiss? Geek! Practice on your hand dur brain!) Cosmo was  the magazine I moved onto and boy, did it leave the other mags limping behind in their out of date platforms and centre partings. I’d be so impatient for the new issue to arrive each month that while waiting, I’d read over old copies again from cover to cover. I was so obsessed that I even learnt the names of the staff from the magazine and imagined and dreamed that one day my name would there too.

When I was due to leave school, the careers adviser pooh pooh’d my ambitions of going into journalism and suggested I take the safer, more realistic route of becoming a secretary. It was the first time I ever walked out of a classroom while an adult was half way through a sentence, but I couldn’t listen to his drivel. And when I got home, flung myself on my bed and opened my new issue of Cosmo, I felt elated at the article telling me that ‘I could be whatever I wanted to be’ . It made sense to me. And as I stared up at my Adam Ant poster, I felt he understood too! So, roll on 3 years after that dreaded career talk and there I was, in the Cosmo office as New Girl.

I had many amazing moments at Cosmo which are great fodder for telling the kids when I want them to think I’m  ’safe’ (for the oldies out there, ‘safe’ means cool.) Like the time I spoke to David Bailey on the phone and it didn’t even register until the beauty editor started laughing when I told her “Erm, a photographer called for you while you were out. I think his name was David Beely?” When she told me that was the David Bailey, I was really glad I didn’t know at the time because I wouldn’t have been able to talk to him! And the time when (and this is Mean Teen’s favourite story) a young model came up to show me her ‘book’ when we were casting for a beauty shoot. I thought she was really different from the other blonde, Amazonian girls that had been preening around the beauty editor’s desk. She had mousy hair, was down to earth, natural looking and really ‘normal’. Her name? Kate Moss. I remember her walking away and thinking. “I know we won’t book her because she’s not ‘glam’ enough for our shoot, but I hope she gets some work somewhere else.” Haha.

I had many, many happy days working at Cosmo. Not only did I learn to write read worthy articles, but it’s where I grew up, got fashionable, and learnt that putting the words ‘blow-job’ on a cover, can give a magazine its biggest sales ever!

Once a Cosmo Girl, always a Cosmo Girl!

Tags: beauty, Cosmo, Cosmopolitan, David Bailey, Fashion, Kate Moss, Magazine, New Girl

My Hair Love Affair

Shhhh…I don’t know quite how to tell you this, but I have to tell someone, else I feel I might go mad. I’m having an affair…I know, it’s terrible – I can’t understand it myself. I’m no love struck teen, but all of a sudden I’ve found myself Googling pictures of my desire and wasting minutes (ok, hours) staring dreamily in awe. And when I see my love, my heart starts pounding and my hands get sweaty as I imagine what it would be like to…have Jennifer Aniston’s hair!

Yeah, yeah, I know what you lot were thinking! Oh, poor Stressed Husband, there he is, slogging his guts out trying to please clients from hell,  while she not only doesn’t have his dinner on the table for when he gets home and laughs away her laissez faire housekeeping skills, but she has the audacity to take a lover…selfish cow. Well now you know it’s not a ‘jiggy jiggy’ love affair you can calm down and have a look at this. I won’t believe you if you say your heart doesn’t skip a beat…or at least give a little flutter…

Jennifer herself is a pretty lady, that’s true, but I would still desire that hair, even if it was atop a gorilla. It’s not so much the style, mostly it’s the colour. How would you describe it? Soft caramel with golden flecked highlights? Ambrosia and cream? Oh whatever…it’s just gorge and I want it!

Since my first head of highlights at 15 which left my dark mouse coloured hair a greyish ash blonde with crispy bleached white ends, I’ve been on the quest for the perfect hair colour with some huge disasters along the way. Well, don’t forget, you had to have a follicle frizzling perm as well back in the day (the 80′s!) so by lightening your hair too you were asking for trouble…

Where's the afro comb hiding?

I’m still searching for that perfect shade between mouse and blonde with lighter golden streaks a la Jennifer Aniston above but no matter what adjectives for hair colour I use…custard, caramel, camel, golden, honey, amber….whenever I leave the hairdressers, I still get my regular mid-blonde highlights with a few darker streaks thrown in. It’s nice. I like it, but I don’t luuuurrrrrrve it.

Here are another couple of shades I like…

and

So hellbent am I on achieving this holy grail of a hair colour, that I have been known to run through a crowded street with the intention of accosting some poor innocent (bloody lucky) woman that sports just the shade I’m after to ask where she had it done. But as I’m running (or walking speedily – don’t want to look like a nutter) I always lose my bottle and think perhaps when I reach her, she will simply laugh at my raggedy, blah coloured hair stuck to my sweaty forehead and say spitefully  ’I'm not telling!’ before shimmying away, flicking her jel-inspiring locks.

So, instead I just flick through hundreds of magazines and websites and build up a little portfolio of pictures that I take to the hairdressers (and stare at a lot) and hope that one day I too, might have lust-worthy hair.

Tags: beauty, blonde, brown, Hair, Hairdresser, holy grail, Jennifer Aniston, jiggy jiggy, love affair, perm