Retail Therapy: Why in all likelihood I will now need therapy (A true story)

I bought my last pair of bathers about 3 years ago. You know what I have been wearing to the beach lately? My gym shorts and a singlet. Not good for the ego. So, Dave and I decided to brave the post-Christmas sales so that I could get some new bathers.

(Wait, should I be unpacking boxes, or finding the toilet paper or something?...Meh. Anyway, bathers.)

We went to a few department stores with no luck, and ended up in a surf store. (I know what you're thinking, BAD MOVE!) I disappeared into the fitting rooms with a few clothing items and sufficeth to say, I left the shopping centre in tears.

My lovely husband reassured me that I am beautiful and not overweight, and reminded me that many clothing stores design clothes for a body type only a small percentage of the female population naturally has. Then he said, "You know this already. You tell me this."

It's a funny thing, after having my first two children, I returned to my previous weight within a matter of months, but after my third child, I haven't....and I feel the need to admit this almost apologetically, like I should say "But I will, soon," or provide a reasonable excuse as to why I have not bounced back before hitting the one year mark.

Today, I had some free time (what's that, right?) so I was browsing through a local op-shop. My shopping 'standards' have changed since I got married...and poorer. When I was single (for that whole 4 months or something, haha) I was a bit pickier, and thought I was too good for shops like Big W and Kmart. Time has passed and now I will almost take anything.

My op shop standards are that it must look vaguely decent for starters, a good brand name or store is helpful but not essential, however- it must not have a tag inside that reads "Crossroads", "Veryberry", "Girlpower" or anything else stupid, and it must not be bigger than a size 12. This is just a weird mental issue I have. It's not that anyone would even know if I bought something in a bigger size. It would require me to acknowledge that I am now heavier than usual. I would rather go without than buy a piece of clothing that fits and is larger than a size 12. I've always been about a size 10-12,so to shift now would require me to shift my whole perception of myself.

Here is where I would typically include some kind of rant about stupid ideal body types and how I want to be happy with and accepting of my body. Hypocritical much?

I want to develop a healthy body image, which I have never really had- but all I can think about is, once I am skinny, I'll develop a healthy body image.

Still working on it.

My kids aren't crazy at ALL

Isabel, preparing for winter, and also sunshine.

Thoughts from an intelligent mind

If my husband is walking behind me and doesn't reach for my butt, he must be deep in thought.

When baby is in front of the computer moving itunes files to the trash and I say, "No!" she will scrunch up her face and cry.

Those cadbury chocolates- Furry Friends- that come in a 5 pack are perfect for my family of five. One for everyone, except baby, and two for me. Outstanding.

Leaving home....again

I am currently in the process of moving house, for the seventh time in my six years of marriage. In that time, we have accumulated a bunch of stuff and a bunch of little people with their own stuff. We have made friends, only to move away. I have finally grasped the basic layout of a particular town only to leave and start over in a new one!

So, we start over in Busselton, small town by the ocean, where my husband grew up, and has a new job. My first question in my head as we contemplated the move was, Does Busselton even have a gym?!? (The answer is yes, I think there are three.) The next question is yeah, but do they meet my fussy criteria? (Answer- probably not, maybe time to hire a treadmill.) The rest of my demands for living were less critical after living in Bunbury has prepared me to go without, at least between visits to Perth. Things like Gelare, Pure n Natural (for their frozen yoghurt soft serve)...yeah, I think they all involve ice cream.

I spent the first part of the moving process escaping to Perth with bub, while my husband stayed behind with the kids and started boxing things up and shifting some furniture. (Sucka!!) I have now arrived home to chaos, and I don't like it!! We are surrounded by boxes, and large spaces where furniture was, and random toys and clothes and items I don't think I want to do without until I discover them again in another few days. Every time I think of something I should do, I remember I can't until I find a crucial piece of equipment involved. So while the boys are off picking up a trailer, I am hiding behind the computer.

While I am contemplating starting over, I have a few 'resolutions' I want to put in place. These are not New Years resolutions, I recently decided that if I want to change something about myself, I'll change it. Regardless of the date or social events involving good food. (Tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!!)

1) I will try to be a more courteous driver. Not that I consider myself to be a discourteous driver, but I do live in WA, and our reputation is pretty bad. Also, when I see other arrogant drivers, I wonder if they are just arrogant in general, or if they just get that way behind the wheel? I do not want to be an arrogant person, therefore, I will not be an arrogant driver.

2) Work on my running. I was never, ever a runner, and was quietly in awe of them. People who claimed to love running were, frankly, complete nutbags. But somehow, I gradually built up, and I can run 5km without stopping. I want to stretch this out to longer.

3) I want to get some distance between myself and the internet. There are obviously many perks to having internet access whenever you like, but I think in this information age my brain is suffering from an information overload. There are just too many articles, too many opinions, too much going on and I am finding it pretty overwhelming, so I think it's time to cool it a bit.

Farewell Bunbury, I know I complained about your high volume of bogans, and the mullets and rattails I saw on children, but I met some great friends. I hope 45 minutes isn't too far away!

Surfer wives unite!

When I first started dating my husband, I had never dated a surfer. I thought it was most impressive how he could stand up on his board and describe surf conditions based on how the leaves were moving in the trees. My husband grew up “down south”, in the country, and the ocean and surfing were big parts of his life growing up. Also, he was (and is) a talented artist, kind and a good listener. (Hmm, maybe scratch the ‘good listener’ part after six years of marriage…?) So I thought he was just about the coolest person I’d ever met.

Our first unit was in Scarborough, across the road from the beach. He loved that he could “check the surf” from the comfort of our bed.

However…I couldn’t quite comprehend getting up so early in the morning to drive for 2 hours to get to the best spots to jump into freezing water. I also don’t get the whole driving to some secluded spot where you can walk a 2km bush track to even get to the beach, where you will then paddle out several hundred metres. And then the actual surfing begins. Hard work, huh? I am almost inspired to find a new hobby that doesn’t involve chocolate consumption. Almost..

I am still concerned each time he goes out that this will be the day he gets attacked by a shark. He laughs at my paranoia and reminds me that he is more likely to get killed driving to the surf than by a shark, to which I respond with more panic, “Oh my gosh, now I don’t even want you to get in the car!!” Yes I have a thing about sharks, I will not be the only one in the water at the beach, and I will definitely not be the furtherest one out. I think it was a report on sharks I did at about 8 that scarred me for life! But, if someone was going to get killed by a shark, odds are it would be someone who was in the water when it was dark (Night surf at City Beach, anyone?) or someone who resembled a seal with their black wetsuit. Plus, as I have pointed out, if he was to survive a shark attack, how is he supposed to get himself back to the shore a few hundred metres away, and back up a 2km bush track to get help? Damn secluded surf spots.

Now he just gets in trouble for coming home later than he planned. Or arriving home to spend time with me and the kids just in time for nap time. Or for coming home and saying ‘how tired’ he is.

I do still think he is kind of cool though. Less cool when he bends down to give me a kiss and water comes out his nose though.