The Siren Song of Salami

As some of you may have read in this post I’ve recently commenced my mid-life crisis.

And far from being the relaxing slide into self-absorbed indulgence I had thought it would be, the crisis has actually turned out to require a fair bit of input from ME!

Soul searching, navel gazing. I tell you some days it’s just one more ting on my fucking to do list!

This internal “stock take” has been a bit of a double edged sword.

I have been able to congratulate myself on my achievements which are, in no particular order…

– Three children who are well-behaved, quiet ummm, let just say they’re “characters” full of spark and wonderful little quirks

– A career that, although it has taken many twists and turns, is at least now pretty much on track

– Fantastic friends both IRL and online

– A good relationship with a man who, apart from his habit of leaving his socks on the lounge room floor, is as good a man as you could want.

But I’ve also had to face the fact that there are some things I definitely thought i’d be better at by now. This was a less comfortable list to write but here goes…

– I still drink far too quickly for the first two drinks at any party.

I think it’s a combination of nerves and the feeling (which any parent will relate to) of having to cram as much fun into an evening as possible, since it may be several months until I have another opportunity to get out and socialise.

– My relationship with exercise is still very much an “on & off” affair.

After an awesome period of being “on” last year, exercise and I are currently very much in the “off” stage of the relationship cycle. So once again I am trying to re-kindle the spark there.

Believe me I could go on and on but in the interests of not boring or depressing you I’ll only add one more point.

There is one thing I definitely hoped I’d be better at by now and that is…

Self Control

Need an example? Picture this if you will…

I’m in the shopping centre with my boys. We’re standing at the deli counter with our ticket waiting for the teenager behind the counter to notice we exist.

And then it happens.

One of the boys, looking aimlessly at the olives, cheeses and smallgoods in the cabinet, will suddenly have a brain-wave…

“Mum, can we make home made pizza?”

Innocent enough you may think? Sure it is – on the surface. But you see I know what’s coming next and it strikes terror into my heart.

“I know! We should get some salami while we’re here at the deli. We can put it on the pizza”.

Cue a chorus of excited “Yeahs” as the other two boys congratulate who ever it was on having the foresight to not only suggest a dinner that is practically take-away, but also for suggesting an ingredient that will make it taste even more like the real thing.

Here lies the tragedy… that salami will never make it on to the pizza

What will happen instead is that at regular intervals throughout the afternoon I will be drawn, as if by an invisible force, to the fridge. Once there I may put up a token resistance…

“No… no, I mustn’t. I shouldn’t. Oh God help me!!!”

Me doing my best "mills & Boon" heroine pose trying to resist the lure of the evil salami!

Me doing my best “mills & Boon” heroine pose trying to resist the lure of the evil salami!

To no avail. The primal call of the salami is too strong and I succumb over and over again until finally late in the afternoon I’ll go back one last time.

All that will be there is a small, sad, empty plastic bag. A bag that was once full of so much pizza-ish promise. Now empty.

So there I stand forlornly in front of the fridge knowing that I have just eaten ALL the salami. Slightly ill, full of salami and remorse I think to myself…

Salami

I’m almost 36 years old. How can I not know when enough salami is enough?

What about you? What makes you lose your self control. Is it something wicked and decadent like pate or dark chocolate. Or is it just plain gross like salami?

What did YOU think you’d better at by now?

Linking up with The Lounge over at Musings of the Misguided because losing your self control is not only encouraged it’s damn well expected!

The Lounge

Mid-life Crisis?

I love the drive to work. It’s a peaceful 20 minutes alone which allows me to change gears between the world of family and the world of work.

My mind attends to all sorts of business throughout this journey, from composing a shopping list to dreaming about the fabulous career I’ll have after I (eventually) enrol to do my masters in communications part-time.

Side note: this also seems to be a very productive time for coming up with ideas for blog posts. These days I’m often found in the carpark at work madly jabbing at my iPhone to try and get these ideas down in Evernote before they fly off into the ether.

But today I had a bit of a mini-revelation.

I’ve been thinking for a while that I’d like to get a tattoo. Actually I’ve always been interested getting a tattoo but a combination of inertia and a vague sense that it might end up being more of a hassle than I was prepared to accept held me back.

Anyway this morning I was thinking about how I’d really like something pretty and decorative on my shoulder. Maybe a pattern, or maybe something like this which is my current favourite…

Pretty peacock <3

Pretty peacock ❤

Almost immediately all my sensible thoughts woke up inside my brain and started sending messages like….

The Sensible Thoughts

The Sensible Thoughts

“Aren’t you too old to get a tattoo? Will people think you’re in the first stages of a mid-life crisis”

and…

“I’ve heard people refer to tattoos as ‘tramp stamps’ recently. I definitely don’t want to look trampy – is this what people will think?”

Luckily the feisty Ms Bad-ass , leader of all the NON-sensible thoughts, woke up around then and shut down most of those sensible thoughts with a well-timed “Do you really give a fuck what anyone else thinks?”.

Thanks goodness for Ms Bad-ass!

Thanks goodness for Ms Bad-ass!

But the thought I couldn’t get away from was….

“You’ll have to make sure it doesn’t show for work”

This immediately brought up a mental image of one of the ladies I work with who has a large tattoo on her back which is clearly visible when she wears sleeveless dresses. She’s very conscious of keeping it covered up, although I haven’t worked there long enough to know don’t know whether this is her decision or whether it’s part of some dress-code that I don’t know about.

Either way the result is the same – having her tattoo on show will negatively affect people’s perception of her.

And suddenly it hit me…

Maybe

The impact of this one thought was so profound that it felt like a mushroom cloud had exploded inside my brain. Thankfully I was pulling up to a red light when this happened because I otherwise I am certain I would have careened off into the guard rail.

So where does this road-side revelation leave me?

Well it’s made me realise firstly that about 10 years ago when I decided what my definition of success was I defined it very narrowly indeed. Corporate job, decent dollars, promotions and a tan leather Louis Vuitton briefcase (I don’t actually have the LV briefcase but it HAS always been on the list).

And it’s made me think about options – are their other kinds of success that might fit me better these days? So while I’m not rushing out to make any major changes to my job or my life at this stage, I do feel like I’m awake now after being asleep for quite a while.

So watch this space! In the meantime I’m going to give some more thought to getting that tattoo after all…

Ms Bad-ass teaches The Sensible Thoughts who's boss...

Ms Bad-ass teaches The Sensible Thoughts who’s boss…