" ... Wild maverick outcasts like us who cannot be tamed."
- from Happy Feet II
Last week I caught myself lining up some potatoes that had grown shoots so I could choose the one that had the best-looking penis.
And I thought ... really, Eden? You're doing this?
Damn straight. I do ridiculous things all of the time, I have to. To balance out the dark. Poking fun of ourselves and the absurdity of life is a right.
I dance in public, talk to strangers, rap to my stepson and all of his friends until they clear the room, allow myself to look like the biggest tool ever. And I just don't care. It's taken years to get to this point ... you know how you see self-conscious, stricken teens? Remember being so painfully shy that you almost died? From the shy? I will never be like that again. I love being a tool.
The other day as part of Fat Mum Slims January photo challenge, the prompt was "daily routine." I posted this.
Max took the photo without even batting an eyelid .. he's used to it. My sisters kid Tommy was here, he was looking at me like .. are you serious?
"Um, Aunty Eden? But why?" I told him, just to be silly and to make people smile. He was down with that, and asked if he could have a go of the shaving cream. Then Max asked. I let them, told them one day they will be men, shaving every day. I gave them a few pointers for when they do.
One day they will look back and realise their first-ever shaving tips were given to them by a 39-year old woman.
Speaking of which ... today is the 11th. For almost a year now I've done something big or kick-arse or meaningful on the 11th of each month. And I actually stuck with it. When I turn 40 in March I'll recap all of them. (40 HOLD ME.)
This month is dedicated to giving yourself permission to be a complete nutbag. Like, printing these up and sticking them all over town.
These posters were pretty lame. They were just to brighten somebody's day. The next ones I do will be all political and even more culture jammy and make people think. (Seriously though Philip .. put your jazz hand to a phone and call me!)
Lastly, here's a one-minute video of what happens when my ten year old dares me to do something. I'm screaming in abject terror because I was abjectly terrified.
Skin your knees. Nothing makes a goddamn bit of sense and some truths are too heavy to bear ... you may as well have a bit of fun on the way.