Grr! Lost yesterday's post due to fiddling round with photographs that wouldn't load. Will try again at some point...
it was about being sick of being pregnant and I can't see that improving over the next few weeks!
My daughter had her swimming lesson today, and as she was changing out of her fabulously cute Dora togs (she looks like a forties starlet, hey have a little frill, though they sadly ride up her bum a bit!) a girl getting changed caught my eye, because she was spraying herself with Impulse.
Well do I remember the edifying experience of Impulse (remember - Men Just Can't Help Reacting to It?)- an early teen rite of passage for most of us, I'd say.
But this little girl was maybe 8 or 9. She had on pedal pusher leggings, little white sandals with bows and high heels, which were strangely girlish and grown up at the same time. First she sprayed herself from head to foot with the Impulse, then she had a tube of some sort of moisturiser she rubbed on, the squirted some sort of Dove something or rather in to her long hair, all with this adult self absorption.
SO much product! So few years! It just seemed so jaded somehow - there was no suggestion of practice, like us and the blue eyeshadow, or my daughter and hand cream or nail varnish. She was so serious and un-gleeful about it all. Plus the fact that she's having so many extra years of absorbing chemicals into her little, developing self.
It made me feel sad, and nervous, somehow.
Hopefully I'll have a poem to post, if I can find it - but will have to get back to you on that one...
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