Headbanging...

Do you know what’s so good about smacking your head into the desk? It’s so good when you stop. I am in website changing mode…step back and no one gets hurt. Ring me at your own peril.

Yes, isn’t the blog red? I seem to be on a red fetish at the moment as the new website – which is almost done – I had to step away from it as I was losing my mind – is also red. I like red almost as much as I like black. I like bold colours. Anyway, there it is…I changed the blog even though I said I wouldn’t but I blame it all on cover artist Lyn Taylor for making me this excellent banner. I also must apologize to her as I have driven her spare in the last day with requests to do this or that. She’s either a very nice person or on drugs as she has been terribly patient with me. Lyn is in another state so I can’t hear if she screams when she gets another email from me.



So, I have been stuffing around with the new website. I would like to say I have taken so long because I am a perfectionist but that would be an absolute big fat lie. I just have simply been changing my mind constantly as to what I want to do. But then, I’m a woman and that’s allowed. Eventually it will be up and running. No, make that tomorrow it will be up and running. I am due to annoy the crap out of the web hosting guys and I expect drama when I publish the thing but hey – again, the pain stops when you stop beating your head.

So, due to the red blog, I’ve had to quickly go through and change previous post colours as I favour red quite a bit and red on red is rather pointless and I suspect would piss people off. Will it stay red forever? Who knows? That’s one of the riddle of the sands mysteries.

As I type this I have a frigging mosquito buzzing around me. Clearly it does not know it is winter. It’s been bloody cold today and yes, I am a wuss when it comes to the cold. Most Brisbanites are. We refuse to believe it will get cold in the sub tropics and then when it does we’re all amazed. Yes, we’re simple, yet amazing attractive folk.
As for the mozzie, I attract them in droves. I believe it’s my blue blood. I wrote a scene in Mad About Mirabelle about mozzies that many people have written to tell me they identified or liked.t

Mad About Mirabelle - it's another click and buy moment...

“Not every one is as sweet and nice as you.” Flynn nuzzled the side of her neck.
“Ah, I hear flattery. What do you want?” Mirabelle had a fairly good idea. That ever ready cock of Flynn’s had not completely gone down after all this time. It was flaring up again and pulsating against her stomach.
“What do you think I want Miss Mirabelle?” Flynn dropped his pants and kicked them aside.
“Out here?” Even as she said the words trying to sound appalled and failing miserably, Mirabelle was instantly wet just thinking about fucking Flynn outside in the moonlight. Who would be up at this hour anyway?
“It’s nice and dark and peaceful and that grass looks awfully soft.”
Before Mirabelle had a chance to protest further she felt Flynn’s leg hook hers and she was tumbling slowly to the ground with Flynn following her down. Just as well she hadn’t gotten around to fixing the lawn mower. The grass was thick and spongy. There was an upside to having a mangy looking lawn. It was beddable.
“There are a million mosquitoes out here.” She could hear their whining drone already as they started to zero in on the chunky white flesh on offer.
“The odd mozzie bite won’t kill you.” Flynn slid in between her thighs and started pulling her leggings down.
“Mozzies love my flesh.” She generally avoided wandering around her backyard in the dark as she was a beacon for the little suckers.
“I understand how those mozzies feel. I have a deep devotion to your flesh as well.” Flynn had the leggings down and her shirt off before she could say another word.
“You have fast hands limo man.” She looked up at the star filled sky. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. It was kind of romantic after all and she was already naked and very willing so…
“All the better to undress you with my dear.” Flynn ran his hands over the length of her body, stopping to rest on her breasts. The beauty of her pale skin in the moonlight made him suck in his breath in wonder. “You are so beautiful.” He kissed her deeply his tongue entwining with hers.
Mirabelle gave herself up to the moment. And there seemed to be quite a few of them with Flynn Curtis in her life. She was hot with desire and Flynn’s hard cock against her stomach promised a thrilling ride. Mirabelle pulled his head down to her breast and moaned as he sucked eagerly down on her nipple. Her legs lifted and locked instantly in their natural position around Flynn’s hips. Not even the drone of mozzies could turn her off.
“So I take it you’re not averse to a moonlight fuck?”
This man could pretty much fuck her anywhere, in whatever lighting and she would not complain. She just wanted him—pure and simple. Why fight it?

No, I am too pure to have sex under the stars. Yes, I have a bridge you can buy…it over looks Sydney Harbour. I will ask, because I can, where is the most interesting place you have made love or you would like to? Points will be awarded on inventiveness.

That’s it from me…a website beckons…

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/ ….not for long…
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self

Good luck Friday…

It is bad luck to fall out of a thirteenth story window on Friday --Unknown

I had a massive sinus attack today. I feel much better now other than feeling like I have been punched repeatedly in the face. I know many of you are now nodding your heads and saying uh huh ‘cause you know exactly what I am talking about. I have, what I call sinus biffo attacks, where I get to a point where I am so run down that my body likes to remind me I am not Wonder Woman. Hmmm…how disappointing…mind you I could not fit into that costume anyway. Well I could but things would be – shall we say – busting out all over. Did you know an Aussie – Megan Gale – is going to play Wonder Woman? I look a bit like her but for the weight and height and body and hair thing. Aussie women such as Megan and myself are amazing. No, really, would I lie? My editor and cover artist Lyn Taylor (Aussies) are now nodding their heads as they know this is a fact. Anyway, where was I? Yes – so I slept for part of today – I never nap. Bizarro world. Don’t you hate it when your body sends you a lesson? It’s usually a damn good one. A quick slap to the head would work just as well of course. Anyway, I am good to go now and ready to burn that candle at both ends once more.

I sent out the call today amongst some writers, due to my pukeable state, to see if anyone wanted to write a blog for me or send in some excerpts for people to read. No response. Not a sausage. Writers are terribly timid people. No really, we are. So, being the sort of woman that can talk under water with a mouth full of marbles while tap dancing and eating an apple…so begins my latest ramble…

Friday the 13th…

I'm superstitious... but not like wear the same underwear for two weeks superstitious-- Kate Hudson

Triskaidekaphobia (from Greek tris=three, kai=and, deka=ten) is a fear of the number 13. It is a superstition. A specific fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskevidekatriaphobia or friggatriskaidekaphobia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triskaidekaphobia

Well – you all needed to know that didn’t you? I use the word 'frig’ or ‘frigging’a lot so now I am going to use frigg - atriskaidekaphobia to really confuse people. I may have the heroine say it in the next book.

“Oh friggatriskaidekaphobia, get out of my way. I don’t need you.”

Or…

“Holy friggatriskaidekaphobia, if you keep doing that with your tongue I will scream my lungs out.”

Yeah, okay…I’ll work on it. I sense a big eye roll from my editor. I am almost positive it will pass FLEs (Final line edits)

Thirteen – why is it unlucky? Stuffed if I know. I was born on the 13th of a month. I naturally consider this a fabulous number. And yes sure, there are a bunch of people who will tell you all the superstitions about 13 but I think if we all just remember I was born on that day and I consider it lucky then everyone will be okay. Problem solved. That’s what we do on the Amarinda blog – make ‘em or solve ‘em…usually the former of course.

Like a quiz? Go and take a squiz at this Superstition trivia quiz. Click here.

Now, I’m not saying I’m not superstitious. I don’t open umbrellas inside, put shoes on the table or walk under ladders…I did actually walk under a ladder once when I was renovating at home and the paint scraper with the razor blade in it…yeah, do you know where I’m going…fell off the top of the ladder platform as I bumped the side and speared into my scalp. There are lessons everywhere in life aren’t there? It would be nice to have a break occasionally though wouldn’t it? Anyway, I remember reading this quote once – can’t remember who by – but I liked the philosophy of it – it went something like this, “I don’t believe in superstitions but what does it hurt to knock on wood?” So let’s all take a moment to knock on wood shall we?

Friday the 13th and why it's good for you…

-if you are reading this you are still breathing - excellent - if not, take a breath and reassess.
- any Friday is a good Friday
- it’s a good day to buy a lotto ticket because it’s reverse psychology and the universe seems to want to work that way
- the Three Wicked Writers Blog launches today - click here to check those shelias out
- some fantastic books are released on Friday the 13th at Ellora’s Cave
- It’s payday for Amarinda – okay, so that one is only good for me
- tomorrow is Saturday the 14th – the weekend - excellent.

So there…your Friday 13 will be lucky because I have faith it will. And please remember if you buy a lotto ticket and win beaucoup bucks – remember whose wise words suggested you do so.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

The Thursday ramblette...

I mentioned on yesterday's blog about my new contract with Resplendence Press for Taking the Fall. It's ménage. I mentioned the heroine was indulging in the guilty pleasure of making love with two men. A writing acquaintance asked me why I considered it a 'guilty pleasure.' Well, I always write books from the everyday woman's of point view. What I mean by that is if something extraordinary happened to you or I, how would we react? What would we feel or think? We aren’t super heroes or Buffy the Vampire slayer. What would we do? What would be a real response? I wrote the character of Jontie Rhodes, in Taking the Fall, as someone who has not only one amazing man, but 2, come into her life. Should she be loving two let alone having sex with both? Is it right? Should she feel guilt as good girls are not brought up to act like that…well, I wasn't. And no, while I never generally feel guilty at anything I choose to
do, I guess you would wonder if you could or should have two men at once. Though if one cooked and the other cleaned I guess that would answer the question. Anyway this got us talking about what is a guilty pleasure? What do you enjoy doing but maybe you have a 'should I be doing this’ moment over? As I said, there’s not a lot I feel guilt over. Pleasure to me is relaxation, a reward, something that makes your life easier or nicer. I don’t beat myself up over things like worrying about if I should or shouldn’t do something. But that's me. So, what’s your guilty pleasure? We won’t tell anyone.

Guilty pleasures I found on the internet (the tame ones)
- shoes
- trashy books
- soap operas
- clothes
- junk food
- sex toys
- sleep
- money
- alcohol

So, I have been working on the new website. It should be all very easy and it is and if I could just sit down and do it in one hit it would be done. But damn it, life gets in the way doesn’t it? Then you forget what the hell you were doing or think crap why did I do that was I on drugs? Anyway, it's red…the website that is. I used one of their templates and smacked the devil woman cartoon on. And you know what? If you read the instructions they give you that makes it easier. Who knew? I initially ignored them because I believe I know everything. When I managed to delete the whole thing in error I contemplated the fact that, maybe I did not know everything - and what is this check list down the side that says how to build your website? So I read it. Amazing, Grace where instructions can take you. The web hosts are very good. They always answer my questions asap. The always add “email at any time Amarinda” - okay, I will and have. I know when it's up and running someone will say is that it after all the hoo ha? Why yes and what of it? Maybe I’ll give them the death stare as well…haven’t used that in a week.

I went to the ladies loos late in the afternoon basically to waste time at work as it takes time to walk there and back and it you work it right you can drag it out to 10 minutes or more especially if you stop to gossip. The best gossip is to be found near the hand basins – have you noticed that? Nah, you're probably too good to waste time or gossip. Anyway why am I telling you this? I wandered into the ladies loos and there was a man there. I said “You’re not a woman.” See? I’m terribly astute. He agreed he was biologically challenged when it came to female hormones. He was actually the cleaner replenishing stock. I got into a long chat with him. Why? People fascinate me and cleaners know everything that is going on in a building. Have you found that? I have. When I was working at Promptel I knew things before anyone else did as the cleaners - two sisters…er…Susan and Sally…would come by my desk or flag me down in the car park and tell me amazing stuff. I believe cleaners are actually part CIA and part gossip columnist. Sometimes I used what they told my advantage, and more than once it save my flabby arse. Other times it gave me to chance to look composed and in control when everyone else was shocked. After chatting for 10 minutes with the cleaner, yes still in the restroom, he asked why I wasn’t shocked to find a man in the ladies loos. It takes a lot to shock me. Apparently some women arc up at a male a female territory. I figure if he did not clean then we would be arcing up over that so what does it matter?

Just came back from buying hydraulic equipment with safety suspension. There was a sale on them. What? Bras of course. Those things that stop the over endowed from having their boobs swinging free and knocking someone out. Actually what would be the liability on that? Hmmm... I believe author Regina Carlysle knows a lawyer. If you are reading this Miss Texas please ask him about assault with a deadly boob and what prison sentence you would get. I think it’s good to know just in case you let the girls out on their own. Anyway the words 30% off – the bras – not the boobs – jeez - that would be a dream come true - beckoned me. I have been properly fitted for a bra. It’s a good thing to do. Anyway I always buy this certain type that I know fit me perfectly. But they no longer make them in colours. How annoying. They were all flesh colored. I like colour. I wandered along the other racks of simply beautiful bras and I thought I should buy some of these – and then it hit me. What hell does it matter what colour a bra is? I mean really? I know I have to wear one. I put a bra on everyday without thinking so how will colour make a difference? It won’t. As for me, I have not met a man yet who is interested in the colour of your bra. It’s what’s inside that counts to him. My god - that’s sound s like a moral and I hadn’t planned to go do that path but there you go….spooky. So I have some new bras and maybe I am a better person for this deep philosophical moment…or not…maybe I’m just rambling as I do.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Meanderings of a shambolic mind...

OH-MY-GOD…I thought I’d got out but they were trying to drag me back in…Promptel (code word for useless wanker bastard phone company) - I got home last night to find a bill from them. Interesting – I am no longer with these nitwits. It was for full service charges for one month in arrears and one in front. I rang and explained I was no longer with them for any telephony whatsoever. Yes we know. Okay then – why are you charging me? Because the services have not been officially cancelled. Huh? Now I worked at this company for 13 and a half god-awful-throwing-everything-onto-the mortgage-is-there-overtime-tonight-years. I speak fluent Promptel but even that did not make sense in my handy dandy ‘how-to-talk-out-of-your-arse Promptel dictionary.’ Clearly there is a newer version. They went on to explain

that while I had no active service with them I still have to pay a monthly fee because their records showed it had not been ‘officially’ cancelled. I asked to speak to a Team leader – he gave me the same bullshit line and basically blamed it all on the competitor I changed over to. That’s a big no no in Telecommunications in OZ. I reminded him of that. He started to sweat when he realized I wasn’t some dumb bunny customer. He stammered that I would still have to pay for something they knew I did not have and was not using. Riiiightt. I asked his full name and other details. I said I wanted a complaint number – I named their complaints data base – and I wanted it now. He said it would take 10 minutes to type in and he would call me back. I said fine - while you’re doing that I will type my own online complaint to the Ombudsman. Yes, I could hear the sweat dripping off his brow because I know Promptel hates things to be escalated to a 3rd party who can kick their pudgy arses. I put my online complaint in. Ten minutes passed. No phone call. I called him. I’m no shrinking violet. He said – after some thought, and it has nothing at all to do with you going to the Ombudsman, but we will cease all charges and backdate your bill. Funny about that…it all comes down to who has the bigger balls doesn’t it? But it begs the question – what happens to people who cannot stand up for themselves?

How nice…I got a contract on Taking the Fall with Resplendence Publishing. What’s it about? Its ménage and no I haven’t written the blurb yet – bad Amarinda – but it’s basically about an angel and a demon who want the same mortal woman. She thinks she is bloody lucky and is enjoying the guilty pleasure of both men until she realizes what they really want….

I watched an interview with Kathleen Turner this morning while I was doing the pukeable exercise thing. It made me mad that this woman has been treated as she has. Why does society constantly devalue women as they get older? Here is a smart attractive woman, with a hell of a voice, who was being treated like crap because she is aging and illness had taken its toll on her. For fuck sake why do we not give people a break? Why is the outer shell the most important thing? Who amongst us is perfect? Yeah she was beautiful as a young woman. I don’t know about you but I think she is just as attractive now. It made me glad that I was never perceived as beautiful in my youth as it appears to be a damned hard thing to live with because people expect you to remain chocolate box pretty forever. People are people and not less so because they are or are no longer deemed ‘attractive’ in some pillock’s eyes. Hollywood has a lot to answer for.

Two tribes are going to war tonight - the maroons and the blues – the cane toads and the cockroaches. What am I talking about? It’s State of Origin – rugby league – Queensland versus New South Wales and its war. Yes, I am about as sporting as a gold fish but the thing is people get so caught up and tribal about it that it becomes fascinating to watch the face painting, the breast beating and the boastful taunts. It’s like living in some weird tribal society where you are separated by colours. Being a Queensland I support the Cane toads even though the only thing I like or understand about Rugby league are the muscular upper thighs and the butts of the players when they bend over for a scrum. But hey, that’s a hormonal response and I can’t help that can I?

I drew a line in the sand today at work. I'm big on doing that. If I don’t want to do something I don’t. And by not wanting to do something I mean something that I will not enjoy or I know will make me feel uncomfortable and wishing the hell I never did what I did. So I drew yet another line today and upset people accordingly. Line drawers do that. Have you found that? You’re probably too smart and rational to draw lines. I explained that I would not be doing something because I did not want to do it. The inevitable question was asked Why not? I don't want to. Everyone else is doing it. I'm not everyone else. It will look odd if you don’t. Odd works for me. This will be awkward. Only if you allow it to be so. What will I say? Any bloody thing you like. Don’t you care what people think? Nope. If it's within my power and I don’t have to or want to do something then I don’t. How many times have you thought 'crap why did I allow myself to be talked into XYZ?’ Do yourself a favour. The next time your gut instinct tells you that you don’t want to do something then don’t. It very liberating.

I have finally gotten around to getting a domain name - www.amarindajones.com. No don’t rush there because unless I have an amazing rush of energy tonight - ain’t gonna happen - you will find a blank page. When I first started this writing lark I thought I'll probably just write a book or two…hmmm…it's turned out to be a tad more than that. So I will endeavor to become all technical and build a website. How hard can it be? Okay…scratch that…that's a famous last words statement if I ever heard one.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

How perceptive...

Ute from Germany won the contest. The prize is on its way. Once again thanks to all those that entered.

Someone told me today that I do not have a romantic bone in my body. Really? How would they know if they don’t know me? Their belief was founded on the perception that I am too direct in speech and manner. Uh huh….this blog is about perceptions…

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception” --Aldous Huxley

What do you really know about the people around you? The people you see or speak to or email everyday? How much is based on gut feeling or past knowledge? Do you make judgments using your perceptions of what you think may be or is or do you rely on cold, hard facts? Some thoughts on perceptions…

If you have been reading Regina Carlsyle's blog of late then you know lots have been said about the perceptions that some writing associations have about e-book writers not being 'real' writers. It's all bollocks of course but what is this perception based on? Are words any less real because some one can read them on a screen instead of on paper? And what happens when the e-book goes into print as most do. Does the writer become ‘real’ then when a book has inked pages? Or are these perceptions of categorizing writers as being real or not real based on fear or envy that e-book writers are prospering and it's the old tall poppy syndrome of cutting people down?

Recently, a friend and I had words via email. It wasn’t pleasant but that happens. We called each other some unpleasant things. We have never met. We know each other through words. So how right are we in out perceptions of each other? Makes me wonder…

Ages ago on the blog I mentioned my good friend Katie loathed me on sight because when I came to sit in the next desk beside her at Promptel she thought I was a certain type of person – a suck up - because I came from another area of Promptel. She soon learned I was not. I remind her of that constantly. She tells me my evil side wasn’t showing when I first met her…ah perceptions. Maybe I hid the dark side for a reason…maybe I perceived she was a goody two shoes…

There was a case a couple of years ago where an Aboriginal woman collapsed on a bench. Everyone assumed she was drunk. She wasn’t. She had had a stroke and could not speak to ask for help. People's perceptions were she was indigenous and probably had been drinking so it was better to steer clear of her. How sad a society we have become when are perceptions endanger another person’s life.

I recently saw a TV program - early morning - anyway it was about perceptions about gay couples kissing in public. A great number of people perceived it to be 'wrong' - purely because it was the same sex…apparently kissing in public was perceived as okay but not if you were of the same sex. It surprised me because I thought we had come further than that but clearly people’s moral upbringing prevented them from perceiving two consenting adults of the same sex as acceptable.

I have a perception of myself that I cannot shake. It's built on past knowledge and experience. I used to be very overweight. I'm not now but I can't shake the fact and I still perceive myself as overweight. I have the same high level of self esteem as I did when I was overweight but I see myself as overweight because I have been conditioned to do so. Weird but that's how we educate ourselves isn’t it? Past experience…

We are always going to have perceptions of course - you have to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes to really know them don’t you? I am going to attempt to try less to think and more to listen before I jump in and judge by my perceptions. Will that work? Who knows.

Oh, and do I have a romantic bone in my body? Depends who you are and what you mean to me. I don’t romance just any bloke. I'm picky and that’s no perception.

If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me.” –Angelina Jolie

Knock Three Times – released July 18 from Ellora’s Cave is based on perceptions…that only just occurred to me today…yes, forehead slap…

In a case of mistaken identity, Montgomery French thinks security expert Ballantyne Teague is the local bad boy. He turns her boring life upside down and she likes it.

Ballantyne has every intention of confessing the truth to Montie when the time is right. He has two objectives. The first is to make Montie fall hopelessly in love with him. The second is to catch the real burglar Montie thinks he is.

But Ballantyne is not the only one caught up in Montie’s life. Her ex-boyfriend has a secret that will shock her and a real bad boy lusts after her.

“I need you, chère.” Ballantyne lifted her up onto the pool table and moved in between her open legs.
“Um, I don’t sleep around.” Sex on a pool table? That wasn’t exactly sleeping around now was it? The inside of her thighs was so wet she was dripping at the thought of a complete stranger taking her on the table that still had two down payments to be made on it.
“I bet you haven’t had sex in months.” Ballantyne held her face in her hands. “You must be aching, chère.”
Montie gulped at the sexy tenderness of his tone. It was like he actually cared that she needed the physical contact to make her feel better.
“Yes.” Why lie? The man was not stupid he would be able to see the raw need in her eyes. Montie had a feeling it matched what she saw in his eyes.
“Do you want me?”
“Um…” Montie licked her lips in thought. This man was a rule breaker, an outlaw in society. He was a bad boy who made no apologies for it and yet it thrilled her to the core that he wanted her. What did that actually say about her as a person? That she had loose morals or that she was free spirited? Whatever. Surely every woman ought to have a bad boy at least once in their lives? What would one mad moment of sex hurt her? “Do you have condom?” Wild stranger sex was one thing. Safety was another.
“A smart man’s always prepared.” Ballantyne reached into his back trouser pocket, pullet out his wallet and a couple of condoms. “You just have to say no and I’ll walk away, chère.” He shoved the wallet back into his pants. He held the condoms in the open palm of his hand waited for her answer.
“No,” Montie responded in a hoarse whisper, not meaning it, as her eyes locked on his.
“Liar,” Ballantyne answered with a grin as he pushed a wisp of hair from her face with his free hand. “Try again.”
She was fooling no one. Montie wanted him.
“Um, yes I want you but what about…”
“The guy downstairs? He does not want you but I do.” He placed the condoms on the edge of the table and reached out for her once more.
“But what if he comes upstairs and sees us?” Even as she said the words, a strange thrill shot through Montie’s body. Good, boring Montie does the bad guy on the pool table while good, staid Adam is downstairs probably reading a book.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

What the???

OMG…eye roll…I think I have mentioned my neighbour across the street. He’s the one with hair past his shoulders and he never, ever seems to wear a shirt. He is always bare-chested. No, it ain’t pretty. Anyway, it’s winter in OZ. I find it cold. I went to roll down the roman blinds just now and there he was – bare chest, in jeans and wearing a beanie (knitted woollen cap) on his head. Yes, what a sight. He saw me at the window and I started to laugh. I have a horrible feeling he thought that was a smile of interest from me as he smiled back…god help me…I ain’t going to happen beanie boy – and yes, looks are not important but I require some basic level of sanity in my men.

So what am I blogging about today? Hair…no, not because beanie boy has hair past his shoulders…no, this is about women, hair and age. Have you noticed the older you get the more preoccupied with hair you become? And are you sick of it?

I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows-- Janette Barber

When I hit 40 I was okay with that. I get better with age. I expect to be fantastic at 50 and fabulous at 60. The one thing I wasn’t okay with tiny little, annoying hairs that started to appear on my chin and upper lip. What was that about? Up until then I had been genetically lucky. I had not had to do the waxing, bleaching thing – but suddenly the odd black hair appeared. Huh? So you get rid of it then suddenly you notice as the years pass by more facial hair appears. Your hormone levels are good. You could be the poster child for PMS so there’s no worry about excess testosterone. Then suddenly your friends have the same problem with the hair thing. Why facial hair? Is this some cosmic frigging joke? I just feel that as women we have enough to deal with without hitting a certain age and then God or whatever deity you believe in, goes “Bugger it, we’ve toyed with her insides, now let’s give her a beard and moustache. Let’s see how she deals with that.” Were periods not enough to stick us with? Was menopause just because it seemed like a good idea, Cosmos? Now it’s hairy upper lips and chins? Why?

Wax on... wax off. Wax on... wax off --Karate Kid

And have you noticed that if you let the hairs on your chin grow, and maybe beaded them as author Anny Cook suggested, they would grow thick and black – but the roots of your hair on your scalp only come in grey? Huh? What’s that about? Now you not only have to wax parts of your face but you have to think about whether to go grey naturally or touch your hair up. Women are not allowed to grow grey gracefully are they? Men can. They look distinguished. Women just look older. So you think, okay, I’ll dye my hair. But then you have to keep touching it up because you look in the mirror as you are tearing the hair off your face with a wax strip to see the grey growing back in on your scalp. So there you are wax on your upper lip, dye in your hair and still probably having the curse or in the midst of menopause and you think ‘what the fuck is going on?’ Men aren’t putting themselves through this crap. Is there some male deity laughing his arse off at our predicament?

Then you look down at your legs and see the forest that is growing there. I remember being a teenager and shaving my legs for the first time. Mum said,
“You’re going to be doing that for the rest of your life.” You’re not wrong, Narelle (it’s an Aussie saying.) So while you have to eradicate this sudden facial hair and deal with grey roots you have to shave your legs because while the hair on your head may be thinning, it’s still coming in thick and fast on your legs. Who invented women? What were thinking? Do you sometimes wonder if they were looking at the plans the wrong way?

And yeah, I know what you’re thinking – why put yourself through the whole wax, dye, shave thing? Why indeed? Be yourself. Have a beard, trip over the hair on your legs and who cares if boy scouts want to earn a merit badge helping you across the road because of your grey hair? Why do we care – or should I say why do I care? While I am never going to be a raving beauty, I want to look as good as I can. No, not for anyone else – but for me. I don’t want to be sitting somewhere toying with a stray chin hair or going to the restroom and thinking all fluorescent lights in the ladies loos should be banned because they show all the grey. I think, as a woman, I want to be comfortable with who I am. I don’t want a beard. I have the wrong facial structure for that and grey hair – it’s doesn’t suit me. As for hairy legs – I can live with them but sometimes you need to use those legs to make a point and hair free legs are excellent weapons.

So there – hair – can’t live with it and seemingly can’t live without it. Can hardly wait to see what other freakish thing the cosmos wants to stick me with…bastard.

I have everything I had twenty years ago, only it's all a little bit lower -- Gypsy Rose Lee

Off hair….I read two excellent e-books – Beyond Meddling by Barbara Huffert – click here to buy - and Tempting Tess by Regina Carlsyle – click here to buy. The things I like about both these books? The characters in each are real. I believed in them and their actions. I liked them. To me, that’s the mark of a great book. And the sex? Well, it’s hot, funny, sweet and it’s believable. Buy these books. You won’t be disappointed.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

It makes you think....

So last night, I was knackered. I was too tired to do anything but slump on the sofa and have several glasses of plonk – purely for medicinal reasons of course. Anyway, in my comatose state, I decided I would watch one of the dozens of videos – yes I still have the old VCR as it’s going great guns – I had taped. I watched Emma – you know, by Jane Austen. I think the actor that played Mr Knightley is dead sexy…see left. So, I watched Emma and it got me thinking about how hard it would have been to be a woman way back then. Oh sure if you were born into wealth and you had an income you did okay – even better of course if you married and you were settled in your life. But what about the women whose futures were not assured? What about the women who had to work for a living?

Imagine being a scullery maid or similar? What a bloody hard life they would have had. They would have worked their guts out for a pittance and yet been glad to have the job because it would have given them a measure of safety at least until they could get married - another safety net to cling to. I used to work in a hotel in London. It used to
be an old mansion that would have had it’s hey day in the 1800’s. Like the servants did back then, we lived in the basement. The kitchen was enormous and the many, many rooms had amazing old style cornices and ornate pressed ceilings. But the thing that got me was there was no elevators. So being a modern day chambermaid, as I was, I had to run up and down many, many stairs, often lugging a vacuum cleaner and sheets. But I used to imagine doing that in long, heavy skirts, being restricted by a corset and carrying heavy trays of food to people who were too privileged/lazy to get out of bed to have their breakfast. What a hard life those young women had – cleaning, cooking, getting up early and finishing late, with one day off a week – if lucky – for a pittance. I swear there were times I could feel the ghosts of those girls and my going up and down all those stairs was nothing compared to what they endured.

And how about being a governess? A governess was generally a woman of ‘good birth’ who was viewed neither as servant or part of the family and she had to look after and try and teach kids who she knew would eventually grow up and she would have to find another position. How scary would that have been? Added to that, because you weren’t a member of family you would have rarely been socially included unless there was the dreaded ‘13’ at the dinner table. So, there you are a smart, attractive woman having to rely on people for your living and knowing the axe would fall when the kids no longer needed you. Maybe you could become a ‘companion’ to some old crotchety dame or maybe you would jump at the chance of marriage for security from your precarious situation.

Think about the women who took to the streets because they had no references and the only way to survive was to have strange, unwashed men pay a pittance for a shag. What horrible short lived lives these woman had. Think about the diseases that would have been rampant then.

Yes, it absolutely sucks today that some women are not paid the same as men and that in some offices only by having a penis can you get to the top, but spare a thought for those women who have come before us - what they had to endure just to have a small measure of safety. No, I’m not trying to depress anyone. I believe sometimes movies like Emma come to me to remind me how bloody lucky I am as a single woman that I control my life, my finances and I am not worrying about not having a man to ‘look after’ me. Think of the choices women have in their lives now. Those women in the past would have had limited or no choice at all. It makes me very grateful.

Have you see My Brilliant Career? It’s an Aussie book by Miles Franklin – a female writer. It was made into a movie with Judy Davis and Sam Neil. It’s about a young woman called Sybylla who is trapped by circumstance. She wants to be a writer but that does not fit in with what society expects of her. If you get a chance – watch it. It’s an excellent flick. It’s about unpopular choices a young woman makes.

The winner of the Unbreakable contest has been emailed. Thanks once again to everyone who entered. As soon as I get a response from the winner, I will post the name.

Right I’ll leave you to it. I have almost finished writing a ménage. Will a publisher want it? Who knows? That’s all part of this writing business – write it, put it out there and wait for a response. If you are told it sucks, move on and try again. Suckiness is but a momentary thing.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?