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Minutes
spent looking for job: 0; Minutes spent looking for flat suitable for
baby: 0; Minutes spent looking up Best Oscar Gowns on internet: 25;
Minutes spent looking up Worst Oscar Gowns on internet: 147; Minutes
spent looking up Worst Oscar Hair on internet: 74; Minutes spent looking
at Previous Oscar Hits and Misses on internet: 37 (bad). 11am.
Grrrr. Honestly, why don't they just tell everyone at Oscars that they're
NOT ALLOWED TO THANK ANYONE? Or give everyone a set no. of thank-yous
and run them on ticker tape underneath the acceptance speeches? Everyone
knows the Oscars is not just a dress competition but a giant TV show. Is
ridiculous when hundreds of millions of global citizens are watching and
every second worth trillions in advertising to have people in various
stages of emotional breakdown sheep-voicing names no one has heard of
and spinning off into crazed "...without whom I wouldn't be standing
here and none of this would have happened" hypotheses. Is as if whole
acceptance speech is like that game where have to remember what things
were on a tray; all nervousness directed at remembering all names on
boring thank-you list. George Clooney was one of best and he didn't
thank anyone at all. They should make everyone say one joke and
meaningful point then... oh goody! Telephone. "Oh
hello darling." - my mother. "Just thought I'd ring and see if you saw
any of the Oscars." "Yeees,"
I said guardedly, worrying where this might be heading. "Didn't
Rachel Weisz look lovely!!" "Lovely,"
I said, bracing myself through gritted teeth. Rachel Weisz being
pregnant, this was inevitably going to lead into one of mother's
passive-aggressive speeches trying to make me different in some way.
Only question was: in what way? Thinner whilst pregnant? Prettier whilst
pregnant? More award-winning/successful/famous/concerned for African
pharmaceutical issues/clever/all of the above whilst pregnant? "Super-douper
dress, wasn't it?" "Very
nice, yes," "I'm
glad you think so, darling," she rasped, suddenly turning into Snow
White's mother, "Because, you see, if you notice, that dress was really
quite form-fitting. In my day you had to cover your bump up in big
maternity smocks, but lots of the celebrities now have their tummies
sticking right out with their little babies in." Ah.
Dressed in more form-fitting clothes whilst pregnant. Was about to point
out that this was slightly easier to pull off when you had Narcisco
Rodriguez sending you selections of frocks to choose from in the
mornings, but she was still on auto witter: "Rachel always wears lovely
form-fitting shapes which show off her figure." Grrr.
Hate the way my mother talks about celebrities like this: as if Rachel
Weisz is always popping into Kettering for a coffee with Mum and Una
dressed in outfits that flatter her shape. "So
what I mean is, darling, there's really no need to dress in these sloppy
black tracksuits..." "Mum,
I've got to go. I'm late for work!" I lied, fabulously, then hurried
back to look up Rachel Weisz on the internet. 1pm.
Hurrah. Everything is going to be completely different! You see,
addictive thing re: looking at Oscar red-carpet pics is: on one hand
makes you feel ashamed for not looking like that, but on other hand,
raises you up with deluded hope that you could look like that. Have thus
been seduced into doing exactly what didn't want to do: ie obeying my
mother's passive-aggressive orders,and rethinking entire pregnancy
wardrobe (ie three pairs black sweatpants, three black T-shirts) and
decided to wear imaginative form-fitting pregnancy gear: jeans tucked
into boots and imaginative coats and form-fitting evening dresses making
most of shoulders and décolletage. Feel
certain, now, that all difficulties of last few months are going to be
resolved and will emerge - chrysalis-like - as well organised
prospective mother and soignée red-carpet-standard beauty in
form-fitting outfits, possibly also with uplift do. POST-OSCAR
RESOLUTIONS. I
will: Change
outfits as outlined above; Discover
means of obtaining money to purchase said outfits; Discover
means of entirely changing life to provide occasions to wear said
outfits; Resolve
Mark Darcy
wanting-to-adopt-baby-then-changing-mind-when-Daniel-sent-self-text-message-re:
what-knickers-was-wearing situation; Resolve
Daniel
behaving-towards-impending-baby-exactly-how-used-to-behave-towards-impending-relationship-when-were-on-off-shagging
situation; Sell
flat and buy new flat without 57 stairs (ugh though, v. bad nuisance); Eat
egg-white frittatas, broccoli and crossover bunny- foods; Go
to childbirth/ child-rearing class or similar, though nothing involving
underwater birth-mothers; Purchase
nappies, pram etc. instead of more and more tiger/ dragon/ monkey
outfits with ears and tails; Confront
Richard Finch and re-obtain job from which currently suspended on own
terms. Though
come to think of it, is pretty great being suspended as can rest with
feet up whilst still getting paid. Only thing being, will sooner or
later not get paid. Wait a minute, though! Maybe Richard Finch is kindly
Santa Claus figure who is doing this as covert way of being nice to me
and giving me pre-pregnancy break. Oh goody, telephone. 2pm.
Was Richard Finch: "You're fired. And I've just realised we've been
paying you for the last three weeks without you coming in so you'll have
to pay it back." "But...
but..." "Sorry
love. We're not a charity for abandoned pregnant women, you know." Pah. Am going to write, direct and star in movie exposing evil Daytime TV Giants' corrupt behaviour towards pregnant employees, in which will wear false nose/die/put on 50lbs (though last not strictly necessary) then win Oscar and not thank anyone in acceptance speech. Especially not Richard bloody Finch. |