Lesson: How to go from feeling like a woman to an object in one easy step...

maternity bras. I had forgotten about these. How they don't really support your boobs except for a couple of millimetres and from leaking enough to feed a small African nation. That they charge you in excess of $50 (FIFTY) dollars for the priviledge of wearing a bra that actually makes your boobs look even more like those of an indigenous person from a long lost hill tribe in Papua New Guinea... That they may well make them in black and white, but will only EVER have your ginormous size in beige or worse... skin tone. That they are so comfortable and you are so tired, you simply don't care. Today I had a flex. For those not up on the world of Australia's public service, this is an upside. I don't actually take them that often (I come from the school of thought that the generally excellent employment conditions of the public service are there more as a safety net, not a right) and when I do, they have always been for an Oscar appointment/clinic visit/specialist appointment. Today's had been arranged for his dental clinic update, which they cancelled last week and Chef is tending to next. So that's right, I had a day to.myself. Apart from feeling like I've been hit by a tonne of bricks as I had uni last night and you all know how late up I was, I made the most of this day by the above purchase. My life is that pedestrian. I also bought Felix three pairs of his favourite socks - the ankle ones with a red ring around the top. The ones we only had one pair of and that I almost had to wash every day if there was any hope of him wearing socks w/ sneakers and saving the world from the worst foot odour experience next to that Chef manufactures. I bought Oscar a pair of long white socks to wear under his superlegs for sport days. I bought the boys a Pamela Allen book as they just love her. I wandered aimlessly then spent a squillion dollars on a car seat (which until yesterday I'd sort of forgotten we'd need) but saved a $100 as it was on sale and feel might chuffed with myself in the process. I breed big children and the concept of putting my offspring in a capsule is the equivalent of gross parental negligence. Its one of those ones that is reversible and plush. Seriously, the kid is going to have the best ride of anyone. I sat in the sun, read the paper and had my Oporto Rappa lunch. I am so easy to friggin' please. Oscar's teacher said this morning why didn't I go and have a pedicure or something, but I'm just not that sort of chick. It would never occur to me on my day off to actually do something in that line of pampering. I may have got my hair cut, but then I would have got it coloured too, and then needed new shampoo and conditioner, and would not have walked out of the delightful company of my hairdresser Toby less that $300 down. I contemplated a movie, but sitting in one place for long periods of time is now pretty difficult. So aimless but moderately productive retail shopping was had. Saturday is fabric shopping for blinds as those kinda stores scare me, I spoke to the blind making lady yesterday and she may well have been speaking Swahili. Something about widths and lengths - it was so hard to not forget to listen. So I need assistance on the weekend for such choices. Sure, the assistance of chef and two small boys in one of the last female bastions of upholstery is asking for trouble, but I figure I'll share the pain.