Green Eyebrows - A Bad Sign

Saving my blog under 30 February 2006, colouring my eyebrows in with turquoise eyeliner and going to bed at the same time as my baby were clear indicators that I was feeling less than top banana. However, the dough ball, otherwise known as my tummy, has finally got some exercise from the relentless stomach crunches my breath replacing coughing fits have demanded of me.

I am especially gutted that I was rendered too squirmy from my aching joints to feign healthiness so had to ring Natalie up to tell her that I couldn’t come to her ‘Chocoholics Evening’. Not an easy phonecall for a Chocoholic to make. The mothership was calling me home and I was indisposed.

Further activities got systematically cancelled as the weekend and my virus deteriorated into a haze of menthol scented misery. As I read the instructions on my ‘Benilyn Chesty Cough’ syrup that Accountant had dutifully bought and deposited at my bedside, I was pleased to note that it would make my cough more productive. If I was going to have a cough, it may as well be a productive one. It’s first task would be to clean up the mess downstairs that I knew was awaiting my recovery.

Whilst Accountant was on one of his many jaunts to the chemist, the doorbell rang. Without my Home Help to get the door, I reasoned it would be worth the effort to answer it as it could be Glam-Nan – The Home Help of Choice. Cautiously descending each step, one white sock after the other, I finally opened the door. A visibly shocked Chimp took in the flu ridden Hypochondriac in her leggings with fluff on top.

When I eventually caved and bought my first pair of black leggings since 1985, it was on the understanding that they would only ever be worn with bottom covering garments. Even Accountant hasn’t been allowed to see me in them without my protective smock. This is why my horror was far greater than Chimps as my two chunky, lycra encased thighs introduced themselves. Reversing back up the stairs, I barked that Chimp should make himself at home as me and my unmasked thighs had to go back to bed and Accountant would be home soon.

When Monday came and I was still not feeling the best, clinging to Accountant’s leg as he readied himself for work and pleading for him to stay with me and Chickie, had no effect whatsoever. The prospect of what lay ahead was chilling.

Thank God for the Cavalry. They collected a Chickie deemed unsympathetic to Mummy’s condition and whisked him off to a germ free environment where’s he enjoyed first class treatment. Our brief reunions over the last few days were unemotional for him as he reached out his arms to Glam-Nan. My sixteen months of slavish devotion obviously stand for nothing. Typical man.

Anyway, on the plus side, I’ve gone and lost myself 5lbs! How fabulous is that.