My God....my life is so far removed from those halcyon days of sex, drugs and rock n roll. Now I schloofff around in my p'j's and dog-chewed slippers, drinking endless cups of milky tea while sloughing through a mountain of laundry and ironing. If I get time, I lie in bed and pen some words, escaping to far away places and times and then fantasies abound. That's the highlight of my day!
But before too long (after a nana nap) it's back to the kitchen to get dinner ready. Pots and pans. Washing up. The kids get home and make a mess while I shhhh everyone so I can watch Eddie McGuire torment people in the Hot Seat so I can assert my intelligence by screaming the correct answers at the television.
The teenager plays his music too loud.
I think about drinking Coke Zero but read that it causes brain cancer so I stick to more tea because of its antioxidants and because it is now my only addiction (and cheap red wine). I have eliminated most sugar from my diet but still feel like a marshmallow. I put the Tracy Anderson workout DVD on the t.v every day but I rarely press 'play'. She just stares at me every time I pass through the living room, taunting me with her healthy Hollywood glow!
At night we play musical beds with the little kids and I am more likely to wake up with Woody from Toy Story in my face...eerily saying 'You're my favourite deputy!' and a seven year old's foot wedged between my knees than anything as erotic as a man. Husband is on the day lounge in the sun-room, with the eight year old snoring beside him. The kids' beds barely get a work out.
This world is eons away from my days as a mad, cocaine-snorting rock n roll groupie. My life back then was a dazzle of drugs and loud music, wild sex and champagne with celebrities. Gate-crashing after-parties and dragging myself home at sunrise, through Kings Cross, desperate for sunglasses. The eighties were my 'good ol' days.'
Frankly, I think I need to brighten myself up a bit. I'm letting myself go. It's 2012 now and back then I couldn't imagine still being alive in 2012! Actually, I barely am. The hair in rollers/green face mask is just around the corner.
I know this is a bit of a mid-life crisis but I think I might do the make-over.
Paint my nails black. Get a perm. Wear loud clothes with shoulder pads instead of my signature black because it's 'slimming'. Throw a party. Drag out my old Duran Duran records. Reinvent the eighties. I'll wear rouge in a stripe down each cheek, lots of cherry lip gloss. I'll dance like a swinging metronome to the Go-Gos. I'll drink a six-pack of wine coolers. Wear ankle boots and fingerless gloves.
I'll give the kids Phenergan and put them to bed in their own beds. Make my husband don those snakeskin pants that live in the dress-up cupboard and I'll make him role play as a rock-star. We'll go crazy.
Oh...it's all sounding like it might require more energy than I have available to me. I might just have another cuppa and write a chapter of my new novel which is an over-the-top blockbuster full of sex, drugs and rock n roll. It's actually healthier to write about it. No hangovers, broken hips and fashion mishaps.
And that, I guess, is why I have decided to be a writer because I feel like I just did all those things and I haven't left the comfort of my nice warm doona. And now...back to the ironing board.