I’ve decided to start a regular post on the topic of things I know about boys.
It’s possible that some of what I write might also be attributed to girls but I have little experience with girls. Apart from me, the oestrogen levels in our house are only raised slightly by Bella the dog and John and Chickorita the chickens.
I find little girl things mystifying. A couple of weeks ago, Bruce was invited to his girl friend’s party, at a fairy themed shop. He had a wonderful time and could have cared less that he was in the gender minority (which I was delighted about). I was however, thoroughly stunned by just how many things it is possible to cover in glitter.
Speaking of glitter, I once worked for a terrifying woman who always dressed to look like the mother of the bride. She even had cream that she’d rub into her decolletage that was glittery. It’s hard to concentrate on a meeting while being dazzled by a glittery cleavage. And where do you go to from there when you dress like that every day? How do you top it when you actually do get to be a mother of the bride and have to go to a wedding? Perhaps some sort of glittery fascinator.
It may become evident that I’m not really a girly girl. As a girl I had dolls for toys. My dad made little wooden doll cots that rocked on a stand as a hobby. Eventually I abandoned the dolls and the cot, and used the stand as part of a dog agility course for our poor suffering dog who was made to attempt all the activities I’d set out for her.
My brother is 14 years older than me. When he was 21 he left home to travel around Australia. I distinctly remember him sending me home gifts. Like a stuffed water buffalo from Darwin (which I loved) and a rubber Yoda hand puppet that made my hand sweat and has engendered a love of Star Wars that stays with me today. He was, to be fair, the first person to buy me a Barbie doll (it was a Sports Barbie). So I did like girl things, I just wasn’t ‘overly exposed’ to them.
I remember having some Strawberry Shortcake lip gloss and thinking I was the bees knees. But other than that makeup was a mystery. Watching my mum get ready for work in the morning was an introduction, but her makeup bag was limited to foundation, pressed powder and lipstick. Eyeliner? Blush? Nail polish – what’s that?
Over the years I’ve worked some stuff out for myself and as I’ve got older have become more conscious of these kinds of things and wear make-up most days, have bits of hair ripped out with hot wax but I still don’t quite get to doing my nails. I wore fake french tipped nails once when I was Matron of Honour for a good friend. I learnt some valuable lessons – it’s really easy to scratch your kids with long nails, and eye injuries when inserting and removing contact lenses are guaranteed.
In the posts to come, I might make bold statements about boys that also apply equally to girls. Please tell me if that’s the case. It’s never too late to learn.