Cold. Yoga. Hirsutism.

Hi guys.
Hope your week is traveling well.

I was doing a spot of fairly inadvisable reading of the Slapdash Mama back catalogue today. Apart from the whole UGHHHHH people are reading the SHITE I am writing feeling I got, I was also struck by a common thread. So common, in fact, that it is in fact referred to as the COMMON COLD.  That's right. A considerable number of my erudite missives are complaints about either me or (God forbid) M or the kids having a bloomin' cold. Just SO INTERESTING for everyone I am sure.

Well GUESS WHAT!!?? I have a cold. Right now. This minute. The kids and M are just recovering from one too.

Despite my suffering I still went to work. I'm not sure if this wasn't seen in a negative light by my colleagues what with the wastepaper basket overflowing with snotty tissues and all, but a working mother never has any sick leave to waste. Don't get me started on that.

I also dragged my carcass up to the yoga class I go to at work at lunchtime. I was VERY unenthusiastic, but felt compelled to attend. Mostly because I had forgotten to make my payment to the organisers and had to scab $65 off my longsuffering yet cheery workmate MG. I understandably felt that after his generous loan I really couldn't skip it, more's the pity.

Anyway it was quite a stressful class, what with my stuffed up snout rendering my yogic breathing ineffectual, and my feeble attempts to conceal my utterly feral unshaved legs from the rest of the class. I am determined not to weaken and shave my hairy pins until the end of winter, when I can start a brand new regime of waxing, and therefore hopefully reduce the amount of time I spend attending to my body hair.  Anyway I spent a goodly amount of the class today lying flat on my back gazing at the ceiling. Still, it's the thought that counts.

Speaking of body hair, I am totally over mine. Or should I say, it is totally over me! Like ALL OVER ME! I have always been a fairly hirsute lady, but I swear as I get older I get hairier and hairier. I am developing a veritable beard. Not a day goes by when I don't suddenly catch sight of my chin hairs glinting in the sunlight and have to make a hasty dash for the tweezers.  Maybe I should just grow it and get a job as a bearded lady? I could have my own You Tube channel, that seems all the rage these days.

My legs are bloody hairy too, and my bikini line (if you can call it that!) goes almost to my knees.

I've ranted about this before but frankly it's worth repeating. I sort of felt the need to apologise for it at my last de-pelting at the beauticians.

"I swear I'm just getting HAIRIER and HAIRIER! I mean it's practically down to my KNEES now!" I remarked to her.

She shrugged disinterestedly and said, in an accent reminiscent of the Gay Mancunian Heroin Addict caracter "Keanu Reevess" from Saxondale, "Oh, it's just hormonal, all that hair is. Hor-MON-al."

Fuck you hormones, you've been the bain of my existence since I was an early blooming twelve year old, with a bra strap ripe for the snapping by over excited pre teen boys.

Anyway I will leave you with a snippet of a Saxondale episode, featuring aforementioned Gay Mancunian character, for the unenlightened of you who aren't familiar with it. Enjoy.