I feel that some women suffer a lot of pressure, nowadays, in one way or another. Men and women have a lot of helpful advice thrown at them on a whole range of subjects. Many things are expected from some women, even though they may be working full-time and raising a family. Somehow, everything has to be fitted in. Anything can become a chore when there is too much to fit into one day. This post isn't based on a true event, or at least, not as far as I am aware! I would like to dedicate it to any woman who finds herself identifying with it.
I was fairly pleased with myself, a few evenings ago, when I was actually ready for bed by 11.30pm. It was quite early by my usual standards. I'd had a busy day, working on a particularly difficult project, as well as fitting in all of the necessary domestic chores, but I realised that I still had time to fit in the recommended 8 hours' sleep. I settled down in bed, but my mind was still alert, so I decided to read for a little while.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had only eaten 12 portions of fruit and veg' that day instead of the recommended 14, and I had only drunk 16 pints of water, instead of the recommended 18. I leapt out of bed and ran down to the kitchen, where I ate a large portion of lightly steamed broccoli and an apple. I washed it down with 2 pints of water.
I climbed back into bed. 20 minutes later, I got up again to clean my teeth and go to the toilet. I brushed my teeth, flossed and then rinsed for 5 minutes with mouthwash. The whole process took another 20 minutes, but I knew that it was necessary if I didn't want to become a toothless little old lady.
I hadn't been back in bed for very long, when I realised that I'd forgotten to take my omega 3 capsules, my ocuvite capsules, to maintain healthy eyes, and my glucosamine. When I got downstairs, however, I found that I was still unable to take them, because I couldn't find them. If only I'd at least remembered to take the omega 3, I would have been able to remember where I'd put the others.
I went upstairs and got into bed, but then I remembered that I'd only done 30 pelvic floor exercises that day, instead of the recommended 100. I knew that I needed to do them, if I didn't want to become an incontinent little old lady. I was wide awake by then, so I read my book, whilst performing another 70 pelvic floor exercises. As I clenched for the 65th time, I remembered that I hadn't read the newspaper that day, or completed the sudoku and the crossword puzzle. I went downstairs to do this, as I knew that I should continue to take an interest in current affairs, to maintain a lively mind, if I didn't want to become a boring and brainless little old lady.
When I returned to bed, I remembered that I had been blogging when my husband returned from work that evening, so we had neglected to have a meaningful conversation and, by the time I got into bed, he was already asleep, so we didn't have any nooky either. I knew that I needed to maintain all aspects of my relationship with my husband, if I didn't want to become a lonely little old lady, so I woke him up, asked him how his day had been and then we had a little nooky.
Whilst we had a little nooky, I practised some mental exercises, such as counting down from 100 in 7s, in order to stave off senile dementia, when I finally became a little old lady. I would also have jotted down a few ideas for some blogs, if my pen and notebook hadn't been just out of reach. When my husband was sleeping peacefully again, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't changed the beds for about 6 weeks, when I knew that the recommended frequency was once a week. I sorted out some clean bedding and dragged my sons and husband out of bed, so that I could change the sheets, pillowcases and duvet covers.
I then remembered that I should have rung my mother and that I hadn't spoken to my student son for a fortnight. I rang my mother, but she had obviously taken her sleeping tablet, because there was no reply. I rang my son, who couldn't believe that I had rung him in the middle of the night, just to make sure that he hadn't died of alcohol poisoning in the last 2 weeks. He put the 'phone down before I had finished speaking.
Before I got into bed, I realised that I had only enjoyed a brisk 30 minute walk on 10 occasions within the last 7 days, instead of the recommended 20. I knew that regular exercise was recommended to reduce the rate of bone loss, and the risk of heart disease, when I finally became a little old lady, so I put on my coat and plunged into the darkness. I walked briskly into town and back. The streets were full of ladies, obviously engaged in the same pursuit, but I didn't see any men.
On my return, I realised that the lawn hadn't been cut at all, during the last week and that the borders needed clearing of last year's dead plants. I pushed the lawn mower with one hand and trimmed the edges of the lawn with the other, whilst clearing the borders with my second pair of hands.
Just as I got into bed, I remembered that I had bought some cream paint to paint the living room, but hadn't actually found time to do it. I knew that this was recommended in case we decided to sell the house in the near future. Apparently, if we painted all of the walls cream, the house would appear light, airy and spacious, appealing to a greater number of potential buyers. I painted the walls with one pair of hands, the ceiling with my second pair and held a paintbrush between my toes to do the skirting boards.
Before I climbed back into bed, I realised that I hadn't found any time to relax during the day, so I manoeuvred my legs into the lotus position, resting my hands on my knees, palms turned upwards, and tried to imagine a desert island. Unfortunately, my knees locked and I was stuck in the same position for 40 minutes, whilst my husband slept peacefully throughout my anguished cries.
I dragged myself back into bed and my head hit the pillow just as my alarm went off at 7.30am. I sprang out of bed and ran downstairs to prepare a healthy breakfast of fruit, followed by low sugar, wholegrain cereal. I knew that I should maintain healthy eating habits, if I wanted to avoid becoming a fat little old lady in later life. The 'phone was already ringing when I got downstairs.
It was my mother to say that I had woken her neighbours, when I had rung her in the middle of the night. On the second and third occasions the 'phone rang, it was our own neighbours to complain about the noise from the lawn mower in the night. The fourth time the 'phone rang, it was my student son to say that I had woken all of his flatmates, when I had rung him in the early hours. When my other sons appeared, they complained because I had woken them up to change their bedclothes. My husband appeared and wanted to know what all the fuss was about. He didn't remember anything about the previous night.
I don't understand it. A woman just can't do right for doing wrong sometimes.
A good bit of gossip
13 hours ago