Monday 23 November 2009

Feet.

They say that you can tell a lot about someone just by looking at them.

Hm. That sounds a bit like a sweeping statement to me. In some cases yes. For example, you can pretty much guarantee that any man wearing an Italian suit and a Bluetooth headset will be an utter, utter wanker.

But normies like myself, we don't give too much away. Today, I am wearing a nice Primarni blouse and some high waisted Matalan trousers. Which, really, tells you nothing about me. Bar the fact that I am ever so slightly cheap.

No. That phrase doesn't ring too true for me. But I DO think you can tell quite a bit about someone by looking at their feet. I got to thinking this while watching the X Factor yesterday.

My husband's feet are so neglected it's almost funny. I say 'almost' because, when you've been sharing a bed with his eagle-like talons for nearly a decade, the hilarity fails to shine through. You just have to fight the over-whelming urge to attack his tootsies with a pair of garden sheers.

They are the feet of a man who has given up. Who no longer feels it necessary to take care of his extremities. His nails are flaky and curled at the edges. The soles of his feet long to be caressed by the pumice stone.

His are the feet of a man who has given up. Who believes he has no need real need to maintain his general appearance. After 8 years of marriage, why would one need to keep up such petty preening rituals? Why make an effort when you already know you have a wife who loves you, cleans for you, and will provide you with the occasional bit of How's-Your'Father? I'm sorted, they say, I don't have to try.

Mine are a different story. Short, painted nails. Smooth heels. A little bit of Johnson's Summer Skin to give them a bit of a glow. They are the feet of a woman who cares about her appearance. Who goes that extra mile. Who is making an effort - maybe not just for herself.

Mind you, my tootsies weren't always like this. A year ago, the paint would be peeling, the nails would be a little too long. The skin would be rougher. Back then, they were the feet of a woman who was tired of trying. Who genuinely wanted to make the effort, but after years of going unnoticed, was apathetic and uninspired.



...Hubby could learn a lot by looking at my feet. In fact, maybe he'd learn a little too much.

Friday 20 November 2009

I am convinced...

...the people at Videojug are out to get me. I recently discovered the website while at the office the other day (seriously, who does actual work nowadays?) and now I am a bit hooked. There are basically thousands of little instructional videos on anything and everything, from 'How To Kiss Passionately' to 'How To Make Sure Your Teeth Don't Ruin You Love Life'. Really quite genius - especially if you're too lazy to pick up a book. Condensed wisdom. That's what I need.

Anyway, this afternoon, rather predictably, I decided to search Videojug for any videos tagged with the word 'adultery' (I now do this on any website that has a search function. Any. Website). 8 video results. Great. However, the list of titles was a little disconcerting...

'How to Spy On Your Partner'
'How to Spot on Online Affair'
'How to Tell if Your Partner is Cheating On You'
'How to Tell Your Friend That Their Partner is Cheating'
'Confessing to Infidelity'

The results page resembled a self-help book which had been solely put together to ruin my life. There are tips for my husband on how to unearth my affair. Tips for my friends on how to tell him about it, just in case he hasn't already figured it out. And finally, a rather convincing video by one Sherri Meyers, giving me all the reasons why I should just drop the pretense and confess everything.

Conclusion : Videojug is out to get me.

A note to those of you who are currently having extra-marital affairs. Might want to add this one to the block list. Trust me - they have information...

Wednesday 18 November 2009

Probably my only serious post.

It really puts things into perspective, this kind of thing.

Just been reading an article on the BBC site about a Somanlian woman who has been stoned to death in her own country for commiting adultery.

Love really does seem to be one of the only forces that law and legislation cannot contain. It makes me so sad and so terribly grateful at the same time, that I live in a country where I can make my own romantic choices without fear of punishment. Surely these torturous methods exist to deter people, but in the end, there will always be those that will risk everything. Such is the nature of the beast.

Us cheaters in Britain have it lucky. I did a little research. Turns out infidelity is still illegal in some states in the US (you can get a life sentence in Michigan, or be charged with class 1 Felony in Wisconsin). It is punsihable by death across the Middle East - usually death by stoning. In India you get locked up.

So, next time I'm waiting on a wet street corner for James, cursing my unsuitable shoes and the SAD-inducing weather, I will take a breath and remind myself of how lucky I am in my freedom to choose. And it really is luck.

Love Michelle x