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After a bitterly cold, snowy weekend here in Oxfordshire you cannot imagine my delight when we awoke to a beautifully sunny day come the first Monday of half term. I undoubtly suffer with some kind of S.A.D. I seem to be fine in the lead up to Christmas, even January I can cope with, but come February? Bang… I’m down. I’m rightmoving property in the Cayman Islands/Barbados/Spain, anywhere but rain drenched England. When the sun does finally appear, I pack up the buggy with whatever I need to make it through a whole day away from home and the children
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and I are in the sun ALL DAY.
After a morning running riot in the park, walking the dog through the woods, I had to finally admit defeat. It is still February, it is still cold, we couldn’t really stay out ALL day. I opted for a quick stop at the supermarket and then home to warm up. I fetched a trolley while a friend walked the kids inside and then I heard it. The unmistakeable wolf whistle from across the car park. I have to admit if there is something I find more irritating than anything else in the world, it is wolf whistling. You REALLY think
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calling for me like a dog is going to make me roll over and beg? I don’t think so. To add insult to injury the wolf whistling pair in question were approaching.
’Alright love?’ Have they not seen the old movies? Do they not know a polite introduction, holding the door open perhaps, would do so much more to me than a slang ridden sneer? Oh no, wait they are about 12 they probably haven’t made it past spongebob yet….
’Im sorry, are you talking to me?’
’Yeah, my mate was wondering if you fancy a date this Friday?’
’What, with him?’
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Was this really happening? Do people really get their mates to ask when they are standing beside them? Have I been transported back to a school disco in 1995?
The ’man’ in question sniggered and replied with, ’yeah, you’re hot.’
I had to evaluate the situation for a moment. My finger encrusted with wedding ring. ’Mother’ emblazoned across my chest. Yet a child was attempting to chat me up.
’You do realise I’m old enough to be your mother.’ I reply, removing my sunglasses.
’Oh, sorry, bye then’ they turn and head back across the
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car park before a final call of, ’But at least you’re a MILF’.
’What was all that about?’ My friend questioned, having been witness to the event from the supermarket door. You know I really had no idea. As I walked home I pondered on the conversation until it began to dawn on me. I remember as a teenager my hormone fuelled brother would always wonder (much to my resentment) how you never see any ’hot women’ in the winter but come a summer’s day the land is filled with them. Two summers ago, when I was so sleep deprived I put my laundry in the
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dishwasher, was still carrying baby weight and wore whatever the hell was clean, people were telling me how fab I looked. At the time I thought they were just being kind. Now I know… it’s down to the mummy disguise to beat all other disguises… Sunglasses.
Sunglasses- I buy them big enough and dark enough so they cover the tremendous luggage under my eyes. Once I’m wearing them no one can tell I haven’t slept in 3000 days. They also can’t see the tale tale wrinkles giving away the fact that it’s been a while since I celebrated a birthday that
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started with the number 2. I could do without the cat calls but it’s true, I get far less of those when the glasses are off, when I’m windswept and huddled under my dreary duffle coat. And I definitely don’t have teenagers trying to chat me up, though if I’m honest I’m keen not to repeat that moment in my life.
It turns out a simple pair of £3.99 glasses from H and M can make you look 20 years younger. Leave your Botox, your expensive night creams, liposuction. I’m off down the high street for more of the hottest Yummy Mummy accessory.
SelfishMother.com
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Sarah Jarman - 20 Feb 17
After a bitterly cold, snowy weekend here in Oxfordshire you cannot imagine my delight when we awoke to a beautifully sunny day come the first Monday of half term. I undoubtly suffer with some kind of S.A.D. I seem to be fine in the lead up to Christmas, even January I can cope with, but come February? Bang… I’m down. I’m rightmoving property in the Cayman Islands/Barbados/Spain, anywhere but rain drenched England. When the sun does finally appear, I pack up the buggy with whatever I need to make it through a whole day away from home and the children and I are in the sun ALL DAY.
After a morning running riot in the park, walking the dog through the woods, I had to finally admit defeat. It is still February, it is still cold, we couldn’t really stay out ALL day. I opted for a quick stop at the supermarket and then home to warm up. I fetched a trolley while a friend walked the kids inside and then I heard it. The unmistakeable wolf whistle from across the car park. I have to admit if there is something I find more irritating than anything else in the world, it is wolf whistling. You REALLY think calling for me like a dog is going to make me roll over and beg? I don’t think so. To add insult to injury the wolf whistling pair in question were approaching.
‘Alright love?’ Have they not seen the old movies? Do they not know a polite introduction, holding the door open perhaps, would do so much more to me than a slang ridden sneer? Oh no, wait they are about 12 they probably haven’t made it past spongebob yet….
‘Im sorry, are you talking to me?’
‘Yeah, my mate was wondering if you fancy a date this Friday?’
‘What, with him?’ Was this really happening? Do people really get their mates to ask when they are standing beside them? Have I been transported back to a school disco in 1995?
The ‘man’ in question sniggered and replied with, ‘yeah, you’re hot.’
I had to evaluate the situation for a moment. My finger encrusted with wedding ring. ‘Mother’ emblazoned across my chest. Yet a child was attempting to chat me up.
‘You do realise I’m old enough to be your mother.’ I reply, removing my sunglasses.
‘Oh, sorry, bye then’ they turn and head back across the car park before a final call of, ‘But at least you’re a MILF’.
‘What was all that about?’ My friend questioned, having been witness to the event from the supermarket door. You know I really had no idea. As I walked home I pondered on the conversation until it began to dawn on me. I remember as a teenager my hormone fuelled brother would always wonder (much to my resentment) how you never see any ‘hot women’ in the winter but come a summer’s day the land is filled with them. Two summers ago, when I was so sleep deprived I put my laundry in the dishwasher, was still carrying baby weight and wore whatever the hell was clean, people were telling me how fab I looked. At the time I thought they were just being kind. Now I know… it’s down to the mummy disguise to beat all other disguises… Sunglasses.
Sunglasses- I buy them big enough and dark enough so they cover the tremendous luggage under my eyes. Once I’m wearing them no one can tell I haven’t slept in 3000 days. They also can’t see the tale tale wrinkles giving away the fact that it’s been a while since I celebrated a birthday that started with the number 2. I could do without the cat calls but it’s true, I get far less of those when the glasses are off, when I’m windswept and huddled under my dreary duffle coat. And I definitely don’t have teenagers trying to chat me up, though if I’m honest I’m keen not to repeat that moment in my life.
It turns out a simple pair of £3.99 glasses from H and M can make you look 20 years younger. Leave your Botox, your expensive night creams, liposuction. I’m off down the high street for more of the hottest Yummy Mummy accessory.
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Primarily a Mum, aspiring Author, Freelance Writer and Artist, Blogger, Foodie and Jewellery Designer just having fun doing all the things I love! My portfolio available to view over on my website www.saspsdesigns.com
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