Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 (37 page)

“You haven’t had a facial since
when
?  Golly, how brave.  I simply couldn’t face the world without a weekly seeing to.  You really must try my girl, she’ll take years off you.”

And:

“Of course I’ll put in a letter of recommendation for you at the club but you know they really are very choosy.  Have you taken delivery of your new car yet?  The right wheels really can make all the difference, you know.”

Drove home in our modest little Citroën that wouldn’t get us membership to
any
club (except the AA), to the dulcet tones of our happy Max singing, “Figgy Duff.”  Moments like these remind us why we’re putting ourselves through this.

Zebedee
for pity’s sake!
 

Thursday 11
^th
December  AM

Fenella came round with the kids to keep Max company while we plundered through my wardrobe for something for me to wear to the ball.

Decided against, and indeed chucked:

Black satin halterneck dress - accentuates all
the bad bits and totally ignores the good ones.

Red polka dot Doris Day type dress - too old fashioned but not enough to be fashionably retro.

Lime green and pink cocktail dress - enough said.

White lace evening dress - splattered with red wine and another unidentifiable substance, although not à la Monika Lewinsky.

Felt thoroughly depressed and almost on the brink of bailing, when Fenella spotted my wedding dress in its protective plastic.

Now I’m not one of those brides who’ll ever look back on the photos and say, “What on earth was I wearing?”  My dress was stunning and timeless - a 30’s inspired dancing dress.  Figure hugging to the hips and then flatteringly bias cut, in cream and gold silk with pearls and translucent sequins.

Fenella absolutely raved about it and told me to put it on.  Amazingly it still fits, even forgiving my post-Max protrusions, but I just didn’t think it would be appropriate for the ball.

“Oh for heavens sake, Lib.”  Fenella admonished me, “It’s absolutely perfect and no one would ever know it was your wedding dress. Anyway, I’m sure I saw ‘Dress-Up-Mummy’ collecting Cludo, or whatever his name is, in one the other day so you won’t be the first.”

It did look lovely and with a little Gok treatment and the right jewellery and shoes, I could probably just about get away with it.  Fenella even said she’d come round on Saturday and straighten my hair - an absolute first, never been brave enough to try to tame my frizz to that extent.

Fenella of course is wearing and old Jasper Conran she “just happened to find at the back of the wardrobe” with a pair of “much-loved Jimmy Choo’s”.  God I wish we were the same dress and shoe size.

PM

Excitedly filled Ned in over a glass of wine - thought he’d be really happy to hear that I’d found something to wear and wouldn’t be wandering around with a face like a wet weekend anymore.

And so we had the following dialogue:

“Is this ‘do’ black tie then?”  He asked somewhat warily.

“Yes Ned, you know it is. Why?”

“The small matter of the family of moths who feasted themselves on the dinner suit I never got round to replacing?”

“Oh shit!”

“Yes Lib.  Oh shit, indeed.”

What a pity Ned and Josh aren’t the same size too!

Friday 12
^th
December

Managed to get a good deal on a hired dinner suit - extra expense when we don’t need it but, short of trying to rustle up one myself on the sewing machine, we didn’t have much choice. So easy for men, “Oh, the moths ate my suit.  Fine, I’ll just hire one for the night.”  Can’t quite see that being the case if it happened to a woman!  All hell would break lose, there’d be a few choice expletives and a tantrum or two, but you can guarantee it wouldn’t all be sorted with just a flick through the yellow pages and a phone call.

My point was proved when Fenella called in a complete flap to tell me that her Jasper Conran had obviously shrunk at the dry cleaners because it was far too small for her.  “Can’t be anything to do with the fact that I’ve gained six pounds,” she said with all the conviction of someone who actually believed it. “Anyway, now I need to go out shopping for fat people’s clothes.  Could you possibly have the kids for a couple of hours?”

Agreed to help her out as Max would have company and wouldn’t be constantly asking, “What can I do now?”

Also gave me the opportunity to have a beauty overhaul - shaving, tanning, plucking, face pack, hair conditioning and manicure.  Amazing what you can achieve whilst constantly checking on three kids playing vets in the bedroom next door.

Fenella returned, exhausted and in need of wine.  Think Josh will be in need of something stiffer when he finds out what she spent.  Aside from her ‘fat clothes’ (size 12) she bought the most stunning ‘Ghost’ dress for tomorrow night, with shoes, jewellery and handbag - was she also too fat for the abundant accessories she already owned?

Ned came home to find us both at the kitchen table, half way through our second bottle of wine, surrounded by Fenella’s posh bags.

“Oh boy,” he said as he helped himself to a glass of wine, “Don’t tell me. Josh is in for a bit of a shock tonight is he?”

“Yes, Sweedie he is, I’m afraid.  Actually must ring for a cab and get home before he sees the bags.  If I offer sexual favours and break the news to him afterwards, it usually works to my advantage.”

Ned laughed, “Oh so
that’s
how you ladies get what you want is it?”

Needless to say, I kept very quiet.

Saturday 13
^th
December  AM

Manor House Christmas Ball

Ned and I took Max, Dog and Dot for a lovely frosty walk around the common to try to ensure they were worn out for when Mum looks after them tonight.

Bumped into Gestapo and the rat on the way back - both sporting matching silver and pink hoodies.  Ned could barely contain his laughter but politely commented on the garb and enquired as to where one might buy such fetching designs.

Gestapo batted her eyelashes and answered, “I have ours imported from a company in the States but I don’t think they stock them in
large.
”

Don’t know if she was looking at Dog, Dot or me when she said it but I didn’t like the tone.

PM

Fenella arrived this afternoon armed with all sorts of scary electricals to set to work on my hair. 

As she tackled it, she chatted happily about their Christmas plans.  “We’re off to Mummy and Daddy in Kent on Christmas Eve, drinks with the Forbishers - old family friends - totally trashed for midnight mass and then a boozy Christmas and Boxing Day with far too much goose and plum pudding.  A couple of crates of Moët
(she pronounced this ‘Moot’)
later and we’ll head back to town on the Saturday.”

Not for the first time, I felt as if I was in an episode of ‘The Good Life’, with me playing Barbara to her Margot.  Half expected ‘Tom’ to come in from mucking out the pigs and say that ‘Gerry’ had invited us in for a sherry.

It took her about two hours to work her way through my mop but she did a really good job and I hardly recognised myself.

Fenella packed her torturous looking implements away and set off home for her own ball preparations, adding, “Now keep away from any steam.  No baths and
definitely
no cooking - I’ve not worked my arse off for you to end up looking like Cleo Laine!”

Mum arrived and started cooking and feeding duties so I had plenty of time to add the final glamour and glitz. Looked pretty good even if I do say so myself.  Ned remarked that I looked as lovely as I did on our wedding day and that I would knock spots of all the designer-clad mummies.

When our cab arrived, Mum waved us off with, “You look very nice Libby but I’d have stuck the dress in the machine with a black dye if I were you - such a forgiving colour!”

Just as well the Fairy Godmother wasn’t so brutal or Cinderella could have ended up in therapy what with all the other crap she had going on in her life.

Sunday 14
^th
December

Ned decided last night should have been named the ‘Battle of the Boobs’ - Letchy Dad was once again in Hooter Heaven, “Smashing to see all you lovely fillies done up like dog’s dinners,” he spluttered as he dribbled red wine down his greasy little chin.

There were certainly tits-a-plenty.  Hoiked, cajoled and plumped.  Real, fake and chicken fillet stuffed.  La Perla, Victoria’s Secrets and Rigby & Pellar all on show.  You couldn’t be blamed for thinking you were at some sort of lingerie award ceremony.

And there probably wasn’t a designer in the land not represented in some shape or another through the outfits, shoes or evening bags - there were even a couple of mummies wearing tiaras!

‘Dress Up Mummy’ didn’t look out of place either - even wearing what looked like a bin liner with zips and a fur collar.  ‘Dress up Daddy’ was in a dinner jacket with gingham chef’s trousers and a trilby hat - what
was
he thinking?

Actor Wankor was the only daddy in a
white
tux.  Reckons he’s being considered for the new James Bond.  Hasn’t he heard that Daniel Craig’s signed up for a good few more?  His wife, Long-suffering Mel, looked stunning but embarrassed - poor woman has to live with his bullshit full-time.