The main purpose of starting this blog was to write about the ups and downs of life as a middle aged mother, and all that it entails.
But it’s not really turned out that way – entirely my fault; I have been too busy writing for a living that I have been too tired to write a blog post. But also, I wasn’t really writing what I wanted to write – that is, an honest, brutal and often funny account of what it means to be a single mother in the middle years.
God, that sounds old! The middle years – it sounds like I should be settling down in a rocking chair with a hot chocolate. Actually, I have just had a hot chocolate, and I do have a rocking chair but it is waiting for me to have the time to turn it into something like this because I just don’t ‘do’ boring.
Why the red shoe at the start you ask?
Well, that’s where the truth is going to start. I was invited out a couple of weeks ago, on a coffee date. Just a couple of hours in town at a coffee lounge. It was a beautiful sunny day. In an effort to look ‘nice’, I wore a pair of boots which I haven’t worn for a long time.
Here they are…look how pretty they are!
So, we sat and had coffee, and it was pleasant, until he (let’s call him ‘G’) suggested going for a walk. I was horrified, not because I don’t like walking, but because I don’t like walking in heels. But wander we did, inside the shopping centre – it wasn’t my best date I have to say, I go shopping there every week so there was nothing new to see – I’d much rather have stayed sitting in the sunshine drinking coffee. And G kept wanting to hold my hand, which I found really odd seeing as I had only met him an hour ago. And then, because there was nothing else to do we sat down on a bench with a couple of old men. It was…strange to say the least.
By the time I got back in my car I was almost crying from the pain, but somehow managed to get home, and kicked the bloody things off.
More was to come though. The next day I couldn’t move. Literally. The shift in the centre of gravity or something had caused my back to give up, and I could barely walk. That’s what vanity does to you! I do have issues with my back, but they had been pretty well under control until I decided to show off in bloody high heels. It serves me right! I am more used to wearing Vans, or baseball boots these days, and I should have stuck to them instead of trying to be all clickety click and precious. Plus, I chose my tightest jeans which look nice but leave me looking like a magician’s assistant who’s been sawn in half, and which had me sitting bolt upright in an effort not to have tummy rolls!
And it was all for nothing because I haven’t seen him since.
Dating is hard enough, but dating when you are trying to hide the middle age spread is the stuff nightmares are made of.
Stay tuned for more middle age mayhem.