Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Oh dear lord, please don't let it be ...

It was a cold and bitter night. I had been working late. I had been feeling poorly. I had run out of milk.
All these things had troubled me, made me careless... but it was Footeater's poetry that finally sent me over the edge like a lemming on a skateboard.
'Weeelll helluuuu there!'
It had to happen. I had been busted. My cover blown.
Years of having a street face now lay in tatters. Years of being oh so careful, of moisterising and plucking, of preening and perking. Years of brushing my hair and keeping it neat, years of wearing heels and fitted coats and matching scarves and hat. Years of tailered pants and high heeled sandels, years of long leather boots, Wolford tights and velvet, years of earrings, eyebrows pencils, chockers, diamonds, watches, expensive handbags and casuals that were not casual at all, years of never really being caught looking like I had fallen backwards through a privot hedge into a chicken farm before rolling down a grassy hill and into a sillage mound while suffering froom the pox had suddenly and ruthlessly been blown sky high
I had been so careful. I had perfected the street look. Not for me the greasy hair pulled into a scrunchy, not for me the juicy tracksuit and over sized runers, the tattered jeans and round neck jumpers or quilted jackets.
I knew no one other than photoshopped models could really pull off the 'just out of bed look,' I knew brushed hair always topped not brushed. I knew a light dusting of powder prevented nose shine.
Why am I telling you all this?
Because after years of careful grooming, last night I let the side down so spectacularly I might as well go now and live in Nenagh. Sheeeet, maybe even Dunboyne.
Last night I outed myself...as a secret fleece wearer.
There are some people in life who criss cross your social circle. They are not your friends indeed they seem to have no friends of their own, and yet you always know them. Everyone knows them. And worse, they know everyone else.
Scary Mary and the Slimy Andy. Two bloated prigish gossipy old whores, hairdressers, mahogany, primped, preened and vicious. Oh how I dispise them.
But as a goodly number of my friends are gay I have developed the 'moawmoaw' chops necessary to navigate the fatmammcat boat through vicious snipy overly tanned oil slicked waters, and one of these ways is to never get caught with your guard down.
If they smell blood they will attack.
And I never do...except for last night.
LIke I said, I had read Footeater's poem. I had laughed a little. Then- feeling dirty and unclean-I had a shower. Not long afterwards, feeling sufficiently recovered I decided to make hot chocolate, only to discover Puddy had-inexplicibly-drank all the milk.
A quandry, but so shaken was I from my earlier reading, I threw caution to the wind and this is where my nightmare became reality.
My hair was damp ergo curly-ish, terrified of 'catching my death' I plonked a striped wollen hat over it. I was wearing pink fleecy booties and grey and pink fleecy jammies...there were rabbits on the jammies, I had the paramour's overcoat over the whole ensemble and I was make up free. I also had streaming eyes, a runny red nose and chapped lips.
I left my house like this to 'nip' down the road. After all, I reasoned, the shop is near by and it was unlikely I was going to meet someone at this hour.
I should have known better, I should have changed. I am an idiot.
'Wellll hellluuuu there!"
Three of the evilest most foul words in the English language.
'Moaw Moaw.'
'We thought it was you. How are you?'
'oh fine fine.'
'Are you...going out?' This is accompanied by disbelieving looks and snickering delight as Slimy Andy bends down and peers at the one of my rabbits. He is looking at the happy one, the one dancing with a carrot.
I am bereft.
'Hahah, no I"m a bit sick actually.'
''You do look a little...under the weather.' Scary Mary smiles and a thousand volts of white teeth blinds me, hiding the gleeful expression on his mahogony/crypt keeper face.
'I have a bit of a head cold actually.'
'Oh poor thing.' Slimy Andy straightens up. He and Scary Mary exchange a glance and take a step back. They don't do headcolds, it isn't in the bitchy queeny hairdressers list of aggreed upon illnesses. Too common and unexotic.
"Well I'd better get going.' I say, waving the milk feebly.
'Oh don't let us keep you from...'
'Making hot chocolate.'
I lean in for a moaw, but the look of sheer horror on Slimy Andy's perma tan tree bark reminds me.
'Oh right, the cold.'
'Well, can't be too careful. Toodleloo Darling.'
I am fucked. Do you hear me, totally fucked. You can be sure news of my bunnies are all over the place. French gay will dine out on this one for years. Stupid colds.
And yes it is MUCH worse today.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Right, so much for the sophisticated heels... change your name immediately to Fleecybunnymummy.com!

12:18 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

The shame of it! The SHAME!

12:45 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Observe the picture half-way down and related explanation. At least you haven't sunk quite that low. Yet. Watch it though, you're on the way.

1:15 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Oh I don't know Kav, your ones are check, kind a smart looking really. Mine actually have rabbits on them. And the booties...they are bright pink.

2:23 p.m.  
Blogger Boliath said...

It's very upper west side manhattan y'know, popping out to the shop in your fleecy jammies all muffled up, it shows a blase, devil may care attitude, if anything your coolness score went way way way up.

But I have to ask - why why why would you buy pink bunny jammies and booties? If you don't have them you can't get caught wearing them - hmm?

3:01 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I can't help it Boliath, they're so comfy. They're so warm. I hate cold feet. I'm trying so hard...sob. yesterday I didn't even put them on until after my shower...but today...Aieeeee they're on right now.
There's some kind of meeting I can go to for this, right? RIGHT? A twelve step de-fleecing. I will commit myself to a higher power, python say, or suede. Anything but fleece.

3:16 p.m.  
Blogger SheBah said...

My first thought was "FMC wears pyjamas?" I would have expected a slim ankled, morally loose, kipper loving sexpot like you to go commando (as I do!) - but then I remembered Irish weather and, even more, the reluctance of my kinfolk to turn on the central heating. I have almost frozen to death in my kinfolds houses as they somehow thinks it's a bit soft to turn on the heating and have warm comfy rooms. My place is always heated to Thai jungle level.

3:22 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

You're place sounds simply divine. I love hot places. I never get 'too warm' either, in fact I don't really know what this 'too warm' thing is.
The stupid heating bills have increased 33% here from the first of October, so in a pathetic effort to be frugal jammies are required and heating it not to be left on all night like the good old days.
It's baltic I tells ya, baltic.

3:45 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Fleecy,
What are you going to do about heating in the new gaff... when/if you finish stalling? I'm a fleece-wearing-no-central-heating-kind-of-guy myself. They make enough money, those crooks... and I find it's a great way to keep the weight down. I prefer to spend my money on buttered toast than on central heating oil.

Admit it, the true you likes fleecybunny comfort and I bet you're one for soft flannel sheets too, rather than morally suspect silk ones.

4:07 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I'm actually an Egyptian Cotton kinda gal. There is no better sheet, not anywhere, no way no how. They're expensive to buy, but they last years and years and are so soft.
The new/old house has excellent new rads, light, quick to heat, generate enormous amounts of heat and yet are so slimline and fancy! The new tank is massive too and can be heated from the fires if we want and we do want as we are going with open fires in the sitting room and study. Real fires baby, accept no substitute. I doubt the cats will ever move again.

4:21 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

4:22 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If it's any consolation, i think the fleece bunny getup sounds pretty cool!

4:49 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Thak you MB, it really wasn't, although I'm very delighted you took the time to say so. I will take a photo of them later and then you may laugh and point.

4:53 p.m.  
Anonymous beezer said...

OMG, you have become part of the 'PJ Generation' as described in the Irish Times a few Saturdays ago. There are a growing number of girls/women in certain areas who now wear PJs most of the time. They go to the shops, the bank etc. The girls interviewed were disgusted at the idea that people thought they were kinda dirty wearing stinking PJs all the time. They said that every mornng they get up, take off their sleep PJs, iron their day PJs and put them on. They can get through 3 pairs a day!!!! They reckon this "phenomena" developed in Liverpool a few years ago and spread over this side of the water. FMC, are you one of the PJ generation?

6:14 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I was SICK! It was late, I have a cold...it was an aberration, I swear it!

6:35 p.m.  
Blogger Foot Eater said...

Words cannot express how devastatedly sorry I am, FMC.

In future I shall post a disclaimer at the start of any other nursery rhymes I come up with.

6:54 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Save it footwad, a pox be upon all poetry except for McCavity the Mystery Cat and The Raven.

7:56 p.m.  
Blogger SafeTinspector said...

Sounds to me like the first thing you need to do is to stop caring what these people think. And wear more fleece.
In fact, layer the fleece.
Then get some flaxen fleece and ornament yourself with it.
Then sell something at an outrageous profit.
Because that would be fleecing.

11:35 p.m.  
Blogger SafeTinspector said...

beezer: In the states such behavior is usually associated with white trash.

11:37 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

oh safe-t. If only... Gu-nite.

12:38 a.m.  
Blogger Jagd Kunst said...

It was bloody awful poetry, wasn't it?

3:57 a.m.  
Blogger Kim Ayres said...

There are those who like their women to look like fantasies, and those who prefer the natural look. But few men can cope with both on the same woman.

Ah, the dilemma

9:29 a.m.  
Anonymous online nursery said...

There are many plants that can be grown in these wetlands like: red maple, silver maple, carpinus carolianiana, quercus phellos etc. No matter which plant you grow, they will definitely serve the purpose of enriching the natural environment and maintaining the ecological balance. The only thing to be kept in mind is that, you must take the proper guidance and also see with what is your aim of doing the plantation. native plants tree nursery

9:15 a.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home