In other words there are bits falling off it, damp patches, strange lumps, and hairs sprouting in dark corners. Today, as the sun was shining for about three minutes I got to grips with my St Tropez and slapped it all over my legs. Then I put on a slutty short skirt and spent about ten minutes checking to see if any extra cellulite had grown during the night. The Girl watched me. ‘Mummy I’ve got a hundred friends’ she said. Just like a celebrity. Then realising we were late for school I dashed downstairs to find that The Boy’s armpit stench had somehow permeated the living room where it hung like a plague miasma, even though he had left half an hour previously.
The Girl and I nipped off to school. They close the gates at 9am like The Shawshank Redemption, so any late parents suffer the shame of having to go in the Back Entrance, proclaiming their tardiness and ineptitude to the school. Only now they don’t call it lateness anymore – it’s A Lateness Outcome and we have to think of Punctuality Solutions. (Like not spending half the morning checking our arses for cellulite.) I dropped The Girl off at her class and she announced in a clear, keen voice: ‘Mummy was late because she spent a lot of time looking at her bottom.’
I was going to buy her some sweets but she can think again. Happy Half Term!