I’m the least “Street” person I know, and the only time I’m cool is when I set the shower slightly too low.
My cousin had his birthday party yesterday, and, unlike my brother, invited all of the family (not just the members who make him feel young and are prepared to kiss his Golden Balls. Yuck. Mouth vom.)
It was symbolic for me, as after the weeks of feeling like I was losing my identity and looking grey on both the outside and the inside, I got to slap some make up over that shit, glue on a smile and pretend it’s all okily dokily, which sounds worse than it is because I got to be this:
Yeah! And who wouldn’t want to be that hot mumma for one night only?
Ok, maybe a bit over enthusiastic, but the point is that I looked passable and felt ok, actually.
My kids were well behaved (ish) and I didn’t embarrass myself (much). I mean, of course there was dancing, and maybe a bit of singing, even a little shock when Bro said he’d like to partay with his older Sis. (Oh, alcohol, you make people talk bollocks.) but I got to see my family, which is the most important part.
(And the looking good, obviously!)