sometimes less is more

in case you had any doubts, there’s nothing neat or contained about me. you need but look at my hair to concede the truth of that statement.
my curls sproing off in different directions like the coils of a mattress in a rent-by-the-hour cheap motel. i boing when i walk, everything bouncing exuberantly, often in direct contrast to what i might be feeling.

you might describe my style as funky, eclectic, even eccentric sometimes, but i doubt you’d ever call it classic. no crisply starched shirts and pencil skirts for me.

like my life, sometimes i can be messy. clothes pile up in heaps for days before i’m compelled to restore order. 3 months later i’ll suddenly wonder why there’s a spool of thread in the middle of the kitchen table. i’ve spent large parts of my life coloring outside the lines.

sometimes though, i  wish i was a waif with one of those compact bodies, the kind you can carelessly toss into a pair of jeans and a tshirt, or silicon-slip into a little sheath dress and heels, the epitome of classic perfection. you know, pert sized 34b breasts, just enough for a womanly curve, not enough to necessitate double bra-ing before you head to the gym at certain times of the month or like these mounds of mine which strain against and constantly threaten to spill from their constraints like a janet jackson wardrobe malfunction. sometimes i want a derriere that sounds exactly like the word, muscular, yet curvy and pertly french, not this minor mountain that rises behind me and proclaims to the world that  i am, yes indeed, one of the progeny of saartjie baartman. i want calves and thighs and waist all proportionate and contained. not these rambunctious humps and curves and clumps that boisterously clamor off in different directions, dead set on their own agendas.

sometimes, just sometimes i’d like to be the mistress of my own domain, this sassy, cantankerous, disobedient, wild willed sheath of flesh which in this life
i supposedly command.

i guess the spongy mass between my ears is what i can best command, but it’s difficult sometimes to not be various shades of envy-green. damn, look at holly hunter who at 51 has the body of a teenager. pert. compact. even cute. but then i have to remind myself; life or at least, what we look like, is the result of  a lotto in which we involuntarily participate and the landscape of our bodies was sculpted by a distant sculptor to whom there’s no recourse. bottom-line (pun intended), i guess it’s not what we’re given. it’s what we make of it.

and make no mistake, i’m grateful for what i’ve got. sometimes, though, i wish i’d been given just a little bit less!

p.s. the crude little animation was something i came up with for my first website around 1995 or so

off the top of my head…

the new haircut
so it doesn’t look like i’m going to be spending much time on the track this week. when i’ve not been sniffling and sneezing at the studio, i’ve been home on my back – and no, not in a fun way!
had a late call (for a change) today, so managed to make it to the doctor. and the little piece of plastic otherwise known as a credit card did marvelous acrobatics in and out of my wallet. doctor,  bloodwork, various prescriptions, etc., etc. so though i am anti antibiotics, i am, once again, on them.
at least the doctor is young, funky and cute – the total opposite of the doctor-character i play. her name is dr. d. green and if you live in the linden, northcliff area of johannesburg and need a good gp, dr. d’s your gal (that was an unpaid for plug, b.t.w.). she recommended that i keep a ventilator/inhaler at hand – just in case the exercise induced asthma gets any worse. that’s when i finally recuperate and make it back to my training program! though it looks like i’m going to be stuck on 5k’s for the immediate future!
totally different track, pun intended; anybody catch “californication”? i’m totally hookered, uhm, i mean, hooked. 😉 i’m really liking david duchovny’s anti-hero character (as long as i don’t have to live with him!). the writing’s pretty cool and so are the characters. nothing predictable here – except the endless nudity and sex scenes, which i’m not above enjoying, but might find more appealing if i were a guy. 
have also been getting into “life”. and loving pvr. i love that i get to ffwd through the ads and promos – even though i think south african commercials are some of the best in the world. funny. pithy. apt. but still, once you’ve seen it x dozen times, you’ve seen it x dozen times. 
had 2 funny “coincidences” today. when i was at the doctor getting blood drawn (no mean feat! with my miniscule veins i’d suck at being a junkie!), the cutest little blonde boy came running into the room, and locked eyes with me, only to be whisked off moments later by a woman i presumed to be his gran. it took me a moment before i realized that it was the son of one of the actresses i work with. odd, cause she brought him to work recently and i missed him that day. it was like i’d been given another opportunity to see him. in fact, i’d almost forgotten that i got to spin some fire at his baby shower.

spinning fire wings at stef’s shower

after that, i decided to treat myself to breakfast at my favorite breakfast spot, paputsi’s on 4th street in linden. their menu features the hand-drawn  head of a cat on the front, and it’s butt, with butt-hole, on the back! over breakfast i paged through one of the free mags they usually have out front and there, to my surprise, was an interview with a fracquaintance (a word i just made up – an acquaintance who’s almost a friend) of mine, dave chislett, journalist, pr guy and one of the few other bloggers i know. check him out at http://www.thechiz.co.za 
he warned me that blogging was addictive. though hey, at least one doesn’t need to stick a needle in one’s veins!