In the past, this has been a big day for me. My birthday is the day after, so usually I would combine birthday celebrations with the public holiday. This would usually result in binge drinking in city bars while wearing an Australian flag as a dress. Occasionally, this would also involve drunkenly volunteering to sit in dunking machines, where inebriated punters would pay to throw balls at a target. Hitting the target would result in the moron sitting in the dunking machine plummeting into the water below.
Fortunately, those days are behind me.
Instead, I am spending Australia day at a friend's unit complex pool. This could be a very smart idea, or a big mistake.
I am, by nature, a control freak. I like things to be organised, plans to be watertight, and itineraries finalised in advance. I also like to be assured that when someone says "Come to my unit and we can use the pool!" they do in fact know that use of the pool is possible.
The best case scenario that I can envisage of the day's events involves my friends and I retaining an absolute monopoly over the pool/BBQ area, thus ensuring unencumbered use of the amenities. I will take up position on a deck chair perched dangerously close to the pool edge (for ease of access), laying myself in a strategic position where my stomach appears slender and my thighs appear firm. I will stay in this position for approximately four hours, moving only to eat food which I have requested BEB bring to me. I will sip on a maximum of two beers, knowing that any more will result in unsightly bloating to my already rounded belly. Then, when no one is looking, I will slip into the pool for as long as it takes for the others to turn away from me, at which time I will return to the safety of the deck chair, and my towel.
I fear, however, that this may not transpire.
Firstly, how does my friend know that we can enjoy exclusive use of the pool? She has instructed everyone to arrive at around 11.30am, at which time we will make our way to the pool/BBQ area and swim/eat/drink and listen to the Hottest 100. This sounds all very well and good but what is the plan if the rest of her unit complex have the exact same idea, but instead have instructed their respective friends to meet at the pool at 9am? I can tell you what it means - it means I will have to parade around in my bikini in front of strangers. It also means it is highly likely that I will miss out on the only cellulite disguise known to be foolproof - the deck chair.
Secondly, how are we to monopolise the BBQ area with our culinary treats if Barry, Robbo and Gaz and their collective throng of bogan mates are already grilling up a storm when we arrive? I can't have my vegie sausages tarnished by their meaty residue! And yes I know I can wrap the vegie sausages in Alfoil as I usually do, but that is beside the point.
I am already dreading getting my gear off in front of people I know, let alone the boozed-up unit dwellers who are likely to be lurking around the pool on what is forecast to be a sweltering day. I have made a mental list of all the preening my body requires before it can go on display - shaving, exfoliating, fake tanning and of course, waxing (which I will be too cheap to pay someone to do, so will instead use Veet cream which will undoubtedly give my sensitive skin ingrown hairs and a rash). To make matters worse, post-wedding I have already gained approximately 2 kilograms. This may not sound like a lot, but I can assure you that 2 kilograms is very noticeable due to its distribution being solely on my stomach. At least in the event of drowning, my fellow swimmers will have something to grab hold of as they are towed to safety.
You would think that being married would strip me of such insecurities, and to an extent it has. But lurking beneath the surface of every self-assured and bubbly woman, is a girl who seriously hopes you aren't staring at her thighs.
No comments:
Post a Comment