I think I may be a 'ball breaker'.And before the earths Axis is tilted by an inordinate amount of eye rolling, or hens stop laying due to a sound wave of sarcastically ascending " reeeEALLY?" crossing the country I would like to point out that in most things self awareness I can comfortably boast an 8.5 on the Richter scale. Plus I have 3 adult children. If there is anything self deluding I've missed, they'll let me know.
But the thing is, I didn't set out to be a ball breaker, and I don't actually take any pleasure in being one.
I see myself as gentle.
Honest.
But gentle.
Forthright.
But gentle.
Firm.
But gentle.
Once a man even described me as a 'fairy princess'.
True, we were naked, and it was post coital, but it still counts.
It made me giggle and go all coy.
I can be coy.
Even in bed.
And this brings me to my point- now that most of you have washed the burning image of me naked and post coital from your eyes- when it comes to certain things, at my age, and with my lifetimes experience, ' yeah, whatever ' just doesn't cut it.
Bad sex, bad behaviour, bad clothes sense, bad time management, bad personal hygiene, bad manners....all of those things that I used to think " shit, that's revolting, I wish I could say something " I now say something about.
Last week when the driver of a taxi I was in hawked and then spat out the car door...I shouted " Oh my GOD that is DISGUSTING, how revolting, that is REALLY rude in my country".
And then we sat there in silence for the rest of the trip.
Of course there is the less direct, but tried and true, method of bitching the said offender out to others, and I have done this often enough so as to be considered a card carrying resident of the ' always good for a bit of salacious gossip' camp.
Quite honestly, this horse and pony show can wear thin for everybody, especially me.
Perhaps that is why I have become more ball breaking.
It's faster.
I admire efficiency.
I value my time more.
I expect to be paid to entertain.
Now when someone is behaving like a dick, and everyone else is looking away because confrontation is confrontational, I will call it.
"Hey - insert name of boorish individual here - just because you were not loved enough as a child does not mean you can bring your ' I hate me so let me make you hate me too' to the table".
Of course I try and be nicer about it.
Unlike some, I have manners.
And everyone else is greatly relieved that someone has said something and that it didn't have to be them.
That it leaves me nauseous for days is something I am working on.
I notice people over 80 call bullshit with far less guilt.
I love Grandmas.
They have a comedy all of their own.
Ask a grandma what she thinks of your new skirt she will tell you straight up " It makes you look fat, and you have cankles. You should consider wearing a bag over your head, no wonder you are not married. But it doesn't matter, those cankles probably mean that you're barren".
My daughter's Grandma once reminded her to "keep the family white".
In her entire life, my daughter has dated one Caucasian.
I'm thinking no one in the family has had the heart to break the news that 2 of her grandsons are gay.
Perhaps she wouldn't mind.
At least THEY will keep the family white.
Somehow, Grandmas are not given the title 'ball breaker', although quite obviously they can be, and a lot more besides.
So how does that work?
Is it an ageist thing?
Is it one of those things where in your 20's you are 'disarmingly honest' and in your 30's you are ' ruthlessly open' and in your 40's you suddenly become a 'ball breaker' then in your 50's you are a 'menopausal bitch' then in your 60's you are 'no nonsense' and in your 70's you are back to being 'disarmingly honest' again, and then you are a Nana?
Personally I want to be a Nana well before 80.
God knows I started up the process early enough.
Bring me one of every colour and we shall sit and watch cartoons together on the floor eating nothing but plates of cookies and red frogs, and drinking ginger beer from the bottle until our teeth rot out.
I long for those days.
And perhaps that is why I have grown ever more impatient with sub-standard, sub-human substitutes for substance.
Weary of adult self indulgences, I crave the simplicity of childlike unconditional love and days making pasta necklaces.
Whereas my days are spent nursing the ego's of men who can't find a clitoris and women who see a 'trip to Cougar Town' as an investment in their intellectual property.
A) No my breasts are NOT rubber balls and they DO have nerve cells, and no that was NOT good sex, and no I will NOT 'teach' you anything 'cause at your age if you haven't picked it up, common sense would suggest you can't be taught and ....
B) No, that teenagers costume does NOT make you look hotter, it makes you look like you stole your daughters clothes and are attending dress-up day at the 'Desperate' factory. Mutton dressed as lamb is designed to trick old wolves. The guys YOU are targeting still have their eyesight and a fair sense of smell. Give it up.
Ball breaking? Or just disarmingly honest ?
Until I have enough money to be considered eccentric, I shall be forced to struggle along that fine line.
At least until I'm 80.
Then all bets are off, and I shall sit in the street wearing a woolly hat with bobbles shouting fashion advice to strangers and eating 6 for the price of 4 lamingtons straight out of the box.
When they come to take me home, I shall tell them what I really think, and then me and the great-grandkids will hang out in the living room all day making cushion forts using soft toys as weapons.
They will say "You smell like wee Grand Nana , and you are very, very fat" and their parents, my own offspring, will shush them down and tell them not be be so 'forthright'.
But I won't mind.
I will rejoice in their truth speaking, delighted that the young - much like the old- have precious little time for blowing narcissistic smoke up the arses of the socially challenged.
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