Friday has been my favourite day for as long as I can remember. Friday holds so much promise. For someone like me who struggles to ‘live in the now’, no matter how many yoga classes I go to, or hours I spend in the self help section of my local book shop, it seems I’m often caught either looking ahead or behind for my joy. But I’m trying. Living with a three year old, and Phil, has taught me a lot about living for today. Phil does it joyfully and with grace. And Nell just does it. So back to Friday. Most people might say their favourite day of the week is Saturday or Sunday. But Friday fits in well with my philosophy… I’m living in a permanent state of great expectation. Strangely I found out years after discovering my penchant for Fridays that I was born on a Friday, and Nell was born on a Friday too. To me Friday has a green aura. Unfortunatley this has nothing to do with either recycling my cardboard or tree planting. I know it’s because on Friday at primary school we wore our green sports uniform. Friday was swimming day back then, and it always gave me an odd butterfly sensation in my stomach. I loved it that we went on the bus to Musgrave Park, but I wasn’t a great swimmer. I was always particularly skinny, and although not inherantly shy, I chose to change in the toilet instead of the open plan change room. I was embarrassed about how skinny I was. My ribs protruded and my legs were like skewers with marshmallows in the middle for knees. Just this week a girlfriend and I had a conversation about the sad reality of young girls (like five years young), having body image problems these days. I repeat, five. Apparently she knows some tots who are already worried they are too fat, and wait for it, watching what they eat! Her daughter is actually finer, very much like I was, but one of her friends was worried about their shape. I mentioned from my experience that you also need to be careful about making too much of an issue about girls being skinny. Then before you could say Twiggy, I was bawling into my morning coffee! I know I’m pre-menstrual but this was just ridiculous. I hadn’t sobbed like that since, well actually probably last night if I was watching TV. Nevertheless, it was slightly embarrassing, and I’m not one to hold back the waterworks. A flood of memories, including the actual togs that I wore at the height of these feelings at primary school… probably grades six and seven, rushed into my consciousness. I was so thin that Mum had to take my swimming costume in. And even though her pre-nuptial trade had been invisible mending… have you ever tried to take in togs? So I just sobbed for a while. Lucky for girlfriends. I finally collected myself and we agreed that the skinny kids need a break too, and due consideration before shooting a few skinny jokes their way. And then of course as soon as my memory soaked tears had dried, I decided I was going to write a heartfelt, funny, award winning book about the trials and tribulations of being a skinny girl. Like the time my sister told me my mum would send me back to Biafra in the Cornflakes packet if I didn’t eat my breakfast… but that’s another story. Enjoy green Friday!
