I can't find my post-it notes. I need them. To write scathing comments on.
My new job, where I get to correct spelling errors and point out stupidity and get paid for it, is pretty good. Unfortunately, the constant supply of chocolate biscuits is proving to be not so good for the squeezing of bottom into the very short skirt that Ratty talked me into. The work trip to Malaysia where I ate non-stop and drank cocktails by the pool was also not good for this purpose. But sacrifices must be made sometimes, and a resort in Malaysia is a good place to start making those sacrifices.
Rant of the week - bleeding from the lady bits. In my previous job I worked with almost 90% women. And yet we were all furtive about the lady bleeding. Because somehow, and I'm yet to work out exactly how and why this is, letting people know that your body is 'flushing' stuff out in a less than sophisticated manner is humiliating and shameful. And it just gets more awkward when you work in an office with lots of men folk - what if they realise you are ... bleeding? I suspect women's secretive attitudes towards periods might have something to do with men also being awkward about the topic - something I learned yet again in the UK when talking to a female workmate about a particularly nasty round of period cramps I was enduring by scoffing Neurofen like licorice allsorts - a male workmate asked what we were talking about and I told him. They both looked horrified - but I think I was forgiven because it is a truth universally accepted that Kiwis are brash and incapable of understanding the delicate line between enough and too much information.
And, yes, I realise many men couldn't care less and don't think periods are something to be afraid of, even if the women they know do turn into fire-breathing chocolate scoffing teary nutters who alternate between being nymphos and shrieking 'Don't touch me' during that time. Women's attitudes towards periods are a bit shit, really. Even in front of other women. In an office of predominantly women, why the need to hide tampons/mooncups/various other feminine hygiene products in our clenched fists as though we are desperately ashamed of ourselves? Not that I'm any better at announcing this, but I have on occasion felt the urge to traipse through the office juggling tampons shouting 'I am bleeding from my vagina and it is normal'.
Aha! I have just remembered where my post-it notes are. I threw them at Dave last week. Which means they're probably on his side of the office.
Nat - I would love to sniff your baby's head. Do we have to put her in a brown paper bag first and loiter about looking suspicious whilst wearing daggy clothes and hiding said bag from the pigs?