Glamazon
That’s my word for today. Everyday I choose a word that sets my mood, something to give me motivation or fodder for thought as I go about my business. My business, what a silly phrase. Back to the word of the day, GLAMAZON. It’s a perfect word, a perfect concept, combining the woman warriors that cultivated masculine virtues, removing the left breast to throw a javelin better or the right breast for better bow wielding, riding high upon their horses. Combine that with the concept of glam, the effete, feminine loving, foppish way of living and you have the complete package. Amazons were born of the seed of Ares, homicidal god oft shown covered in blood from his last victorious fight. Blending the blood covered man and the made-up glitter boys; I’m working on doing it all today.
Damian wanted to dress up like mum today so I let him wear some lipstick with the stipulation that he had to carry a plastic sword around as long as his lips were rouged. He acquiesced and I can only say the red brings out the combatant drama that his feather boa wouldn’t pull off alone.
I became slightly fascinated with the mythology of Amazons when I was a young girl reading Wonder Woman comics; the idea of a female superhero that wasn’t a sidekick was an awakening in me. I hoped to grow up and get my own invisible airplane and magic lasso, or at least have the chance to run around in a bustier and knickers while wearing a gold headband. One out of three isn’t bad.
Life is good, except for the twit who is suing Heidi and me for our apparent theft of the idea for Project Catwalk, née Project Runway in America. As if anyone has an original idea these days. Besides, a male writer would have no concept of how to be catty enough to demoralise upcoming designers with the sexy grace that a model can.
I’ve developed a repetitive keystroke injury from saying, “I’ve added you.” Consider this my big hello and thank God I’m finally official, being a clone was too stressful for my pretty head.
Damian wanted to dress up like mum today so I let him wear some lipstick with the stipulation that he had to carry a plastic sword around as long as his lips were rouged. He acquiesced and I can only say the red brings out the combatant drama that his feather boa wouldn’t pull off alone.
I became slightly fascinated with the mythology of Amazons when I was a young girl reading Wonder Woman comics; the idea of a female superhero that wasn’t a sidekick was an awakening in me. I hoped to grow up and get my own invisible airplane and magic lasso, or at least have the chance to run around in a bustier and knickers while wearing a gold headband. One out of three isn’t bad.
Life is good, except for the twit who is suing Heidi and me for our apparent theft of the idea for Project Catwalk, née Project Runway in America. As if anyone has an original idea these days. Besides, a male writer would have no concept of how to be catty enough to demoralise upcoming designers with the sexy grace that a model can.
I’ve developed a repetitive keystroke injury from saying, “I’ve added you.” Consider this my big hello and thank God I’m finally official, being a clone was too stressful for my pretty head.