Growing Up (very long!)

Yes, today’s will be a long one. I recommend a comfortable seat and a cup of tea.

I was thinking about this earlier while watching the Banger Sisters – Suzette makes me think of me. Growing old disgracefully. I’m sorry Dad, but no I can’t be a normal person. Well, not for long periods of time anyway. That naughty me wants to run the show all the time by locking the good me in the attic.

It must have been when I was about 6 that Madonna’s movie Desperately Seeking Susan came out. I couldn’t wait to see it, and neither could my closest friend at the time (who I ended up meeting up at college with), being huge Madonna fans even way back then. To this day I still have very fond memories of that movie.
I loved dress-ups as a child I still do, but about this age I had my aforementioned friend over to play one day, her father worked shift work so often she would sit up at night with her mother and watch those American soaps – the ones with the femme fatales and TV’s best bitches.
I came flouncing into the living room in one of my “outfits” where my mother and friend where, upon my arrival my friend announced to my mother “She’s trying to get a man into her bed.”
Very wise girl, don’t we all still do that today.

When I was 8 (or 9?) one of the girls in my grade brought one of her mother’s magazines to school. And we are not talking Family Circle here, far form it. The boys wanted to see it but we wouldn’t show them, then they stole it off us and ran away with it. When we caught up with them they told us they’d chucked it in a bin. Off we went looking for it. Then who comes across the playground towards us magazine in hand? One of the teachers complete with boys in tow. They’d only dobbed us in. Boys!

Then when I was in high school, I can’t remember which year exactly, at my birthday party we (bunch of girls again) decided to go down to the local school oval near where I lived and see if the ones we’d dared would actually run around it. This was like one in the morning. My mother unfortunately caught most of us sneaking out the front door, a couple of them actually got down the street and to the oval without my mother seeing them. I had to go and let them in while my mother was lecturing on us wandering about the street that time of morning.

I can’t remember if that was the same year we played Nightmare, you know the “interactive video board game”. I was highly impressed with it then, but if that wasn’t the oval year it was still the year Jessica stood on the dining room table and sang the US national anthem.

Then we come to November 1995, I cut all my hair off, left college and discovered what professional wrestling was and have never looked back in some respects.

After college, I went through more varying hair lengths. Got my nose pierced. For my 21st I had my ears pierced. Which lasted marginally longer than my nose piercing. I got bored with my original earrings very quickly, and just couldn’t find enough variety to bother with them after that.

Since then I’ve left home, acquired two cats (everybody has their cross to bear and mine is a naughty white cat), went to have my navel pierced which is another story entirely which has certain factors in it which I am not willing to share with the world only to say water retention played a major part in my downfall.

Now I live alone with my two cats (had a flatmate didn’t work out, another long story), love every minute of it. I still do very bad things like eat chocolate cake or leftover pizza for breakfast. Actually I find chocolate cake is acceptable for any meal.
Away from home for four years and I get to do all those things I couldn’t do at home, which doesn’t leave much.

I guess you all know by now my love of knitting and professional wrestling, it’s well documented in my blog. But what else makes a knitter on the darkside tick?
For most of my life I have had an obsession with the unusual, the paranormal, religion and Agatha Christie novels. My interest in the unusual and paranormal has perhaps rendered me a bit of a social reject. Because stuff like that makes people think your weird/crazy/not normal and they won’t like you and you’ll never get a husband.
Well that may be so, I may be on the fast track to becoming that loony old lady who lives in the big house with a gazillion cats and piles of newspapers (piles of newspapers I ask you?) but I’ll watch professional wrestling and I won’t care if it’s real or fake I’ll just enjoy looking at all the young guys. Matt Hardy will probably be a grandfather by that stage and long since retired, we’ll have to have one of his grandsons, Matt Hardy Version 3. Hmmmm, I’ve always liked the idea of a toy boy.

If that’s what becomes of people who are weird and nobody likes, being very happy and free, then what’s wrong with all you normal people then? I’m waiting!