My turn to confess

Here I am, thanks to Kim’s confessionsa little late for Sunday but contrite all the same.

  • I over-use words like vile and vexed and audacious. As a result my children come out with odd little phrases that make some adults look at them strangely. It’s all my fault.
  • I have a foul temper and yet frequently manipulate domestic fights to make it look as though they are not my fault. It is despicable, I know, to use superior debating skills to outwit someone I love. But I can’t stop.
  • I chew the skin on the sides of my thumbs. This doesn’t match the vile infected cuticle confessions of others indulging in this list, but it does leave nasty torn patches of skin which go hideously well with…
  • … old patches of nail polish. What can I say? I like putting it on, I hate taking it off. Whenever I use nail polish remover my nails immediately split and crack apart so I just put up with patchy old polish that I can pick at and flake off at my leisure.
  • I cut my own hair most of the time. I think this was in someone else’s confession somewhere last week. I don’t know why I should feel guilty about this but I know that I do. Why?
  • I cut all my kids’ hair too. Because. In this groovy inner Sydney part of town ALL the kids have headlice, almost ALL the time. And even when they don’t have live lice they have dead eggs that (trust me, I have tried EVERYTHING) will certainly not entirely come out before the next lot of live lice come along. Guilt? You try taking that to the hairdresser without wearing sackcloth and ashes, baby.