lyndarenham

Lynda Renham's Blog

Every afternoon at three I am usually sitting in the summer-house, writing. I am not always writing great stuff, of course but at least I am writing. However at exactly three I am distracted by the screams and chattering from the village school next door. I feel my attention being pulled reluctantly towards the window to the glamorous mums who stand by my garden wall, laughing and chatting. Trust me, one does not need Hello magazine when living here. All that glamour, sophistication and great fashion sense is right outside my window. Not to mention the designer babies and dogs. Not satisfied with my summer-house spectating, I find I often have to venture nearer. I trudge outside in my baggy sweat pants (sorry for the Americanism) and tatty jumper (well, I was only writing. After all, Iris Murdoch never dressed up, right?) I head to the dustbin where I can get a better look at the school gates. I empty the Sainsbury carrier bag that doubles up as a bin bag and stare mesmerised at the sight before me. The fragrant smells of Chanel and Marc Jacob assault my nostrils while swinging designer handbags dazzle me. The scathing looks I receive have me scurrying back with head bowed. I feel almost inclined to walk back down my garden path towards the summer-house with a brown paper bag over my head. Of course, I then spend the next hour wondering why it is that I cannot achieve this look. Is there something wrong with me? Even the Betterware lady who comes to our house looks a little like Joan Rivers. Mind you, her house also looks like something out of house and Garden magazine. Maybe I should become a Betterware representative. They obviously pay well. Then again, I probably just don’t have the Joan Rivers look to be a Betterware representative. I mean, truthfully, if I resemble anyone I feel sure it is Hilda Ogden out of Coronation Street. I have tried. I buy all the face creams but nothing seems to work. I used the scientifically proven Boots protect and perfect, or is Perfect and protect? Anyway, I used that for a year and I swear I look older now. I even started booking a wash and blow dry at my local hairdressers. Although I have to admit it felt like the ultimate in laziness. I make a visit to the hairdresser to have my hair cut or coloured, but just to have it washed, I mean, really. Why pay someone to do something you can easily do yourself for free? It is rather like paying someone else to wipe your arse isn’t it? Mind you come to think of it that is probably worth every penny. I just don’t do hairdressers that well. You know all that chatting about holidays and stuff and gossiping about your sex life and whether you do oral sex or not. I mean, good lord, does anyone really care if you do or don’t. Worse of all, why is it so important to get the answer right? I get so flustered that when my hairdresser asks,
‘Do you have cap or foil?’ I am afraid to answer in case I have misunderstood and they are referring to my sex life. I mean, one doesn’t want to get these things wrong. People gossip after all. Then there is all that lying. Well, my hairdresser lies.
‘No, darling, I don’t believe we are covering the grey, not yet. Why, you don’t look a day over thirty.’
Not bloody much! Some mornings I look in the mirror and swear I have seen better heads on beer, but I transgress. Where was I? Ah, yes, having my hair washed and blow dried and even I have to admit it looks great until the next morning. After a fitful restless night, it sits like a limp pancake on my head and my effort at blow drying it in the same way as the hairdresser usually end up with me fighting to get my tangled hair out of the sodding hairbrush and as for fashion and sophistication, let’s not even go there. This is the woman who spends more time with her skirt tucked in her knickers than anyone I know. I have been known to walk across a crowded and very chic restaurant with my Marks and Sparks panties on show. No, fashion just doesn’t work with me. This is the woman who ran for a bus wearing a boob tube and ended up asking the driver for a single to Romford with her tits on show. I am also probably the only woman alive who can wear Chanel No 5 and have it smell like cats piss on her. Eye make-up has my eyes streaming and lipstick is chewed off in minutes. So, you can understand why I stare enviously at these women who manage to look like models when they deliver their kids at eight in the morning. I can’t even manage looking alive at that time. Brekky and a quick coffee is all I can muster in the morning. So, I made a resolution to keep to a beauty regime. But when Monday morning comes I mostly just want to shoot the whole world down. I crawled into the bathroom after my husband only to find I couldn’t see a thing through the steamed up mirror. Cursing I fumbled around in the overstuffed bathroom cupboard to find the small mirror I had bought yonks ago. No luck. I finally give up, have a quick shower and then realise I only have ten minutes. No time for hair styling or make up if I want to prepare my lunch. I choose lunch. Food always over rides fashion. I rush out of the house without even moisturiser. Note to self-get up at the crack of dawn if you wish to look glamorous. I choose sleep. After all that is the best beauty treatment. Yes, a nap at three in the afternoon sounds good. Avoidance always was the key.

9 thoughts on “Tits ‘R’ Us

  1. Your writing makes me laugh out loud! I know exactly what you mean – yous ound just like me!

    At our daughters wedding in France, quite a chic affair, I came out of the ladies and was about to walk into the church with my skirt tucked in my knickers. A kind lady told me in French, no translation was needed here as she pointed to my Nora Batty bloomers on full display from behind. So although my outfit cost close to a 1000 with an Ascot style hat to hide under, it just goes to show you can’t make a silk purse out of a sows ear!

    Hey hippy chic is the new designer look!

    1. lyndarenham says:

      Oh, no Pip, how embarrassing was that? We are never alone that is for sure.
      xxxx

  2. If it makes you feel any better, as a teacher who watches these moms collect their kids, the more dressed up they are, I find the more fake they are. The real moms who care about their kids dress for comfort.

  3. maturestudenthanginginthere says:

    I really enjoyed your post, and I’m so glad to have found you. A successful day in my book is when I manage to get out the house in matching shoes! Thanks for sharing your hilarity. I’m off to subscribe. You sound like my kinda gal.

    1. lyndarenham says:

      Fab… So glad you found it in the end. Am popping over to you in a bit.
      Much love
      Lynda
      x

  4. Lynda, thank you for subscribing to my site, i’m already subscribed to yours but i know you call in now and again any way, enjoy my posts.

  5. nuggetsandpearls says:

    hi Lynda – I’ll respond to this post in due course but first I’ve mentioned you in my latest blog – be sure to take a read…

  6. yasniger says:

    Quite humorous

    Thanks for showing interest in what I put out too.
    I sincerely hope you continue to find my works entertaining & pleasurable.
    Be safe.

    1. lyndarenham says:

      Thank you. You keep up the good work too. x

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