It’s a beautiful sunny autumn’s day here in Oz, and I just went to the local shops to do a few errands, as one does. Walking across the carpark I saw someone in front of me, long silver pony tail down the back, checked shirt over too-thin body, worn, tanned, smiling face, old shoes. It struck me how puzzled and curious it made me feel, not to be able to identify this person as either male or female, happy or mad, too poor to care about appearance or deliberately choosing not to. How I (we?) do like to label!
But how rich and curious it can be when you finally step outside – after hours glued to the pooter, as Mr F used to call it. In the newsagent, a four year old called his mum from some display by the window, in a voice of the utmost amaze – “Mum, look at this! It’s the best water pistol I’ve ever seen! It can hold TONS of water! and you can shoot a really really long way – and it’s got THREE barrels!”
“Just a minute, I’m reading the magazines,” says mum in a distracted ‘mum’ voice. So I look at the magazines. And there, staring me in the face, is a copy of Who Weekly or something, with celebrities in bikinis flaunting droopy bottoms and rounded tummies. “We’re not going to hide our flaws any more!” announces the magazine. “We want to tell the world we’re NOT perfect.”
So three cheers from me for the celebrities, god bless their little fame-hungry hearts! What a NICE day it’s been so far!