Once upon a time, I used to think that it was unfair that there were special schemes for women returners. As a single woman without children, it seemed to me that if a woman wanted to return to the workforce, all she had to do was apply for and get a job. Simple! One husband and three children and bullying experience at work later, I find myself as a terrified woman returner. I feel I can only confidently talk about Bob the Builder and that my previous (fairly impressive) career is another country and besides the wench is dead.
Yesterday, I had a job interview at 1pm. My other half took the children to school so I was only parenting my boisterious three year old son. So the tasks ahead were two baths and two clean and tidy outfits, one for nursery and one for my launch into the free world.
As a project leader, I made clear and confident decisions. Now I struggle what time to bathe, what time to get dressed and what to wear Worried about being late, I start the getting ready process at 9am.
I will confess now that despite the best efforts of my very stylish mother, I am very much a slummy mummy. When I gave up work, the skirts, bras and tights followed me onto the scrapheap.
After the bath and locating an outfit that my Mum had given me, I tried to give myself a nice sleek line with underwear You do remember that I have three children so my line is usually more curvaceous (branding it very positively) than sleek. Knickers are the first choice - lacy, granny or support. Vote for light support so I can speak during the interview as well as hide the tummy from hell. I put on the "large" tights which appear to have being designed for a very small person. I could use other terms but after years in the third sector, I am more pc than your computer. This will not do and I don't fancy trailing round the shops with a three year old in tow looking for replacements. Twitter comes to my rescue when someone advises me to wear pants over the tights. I reflect that the fact that I could not remember this old trick probably means I will not be able to function properly in the interview later either.
Next the bra challenge. The bra that I bought after my washing attempts is now "pink not quite" like the paints they used to advertise. I hate bras with a passion. I have never understood quite why we have to wear them or how to get them on. Most bras fasten right in the centre of your back which is about the worst place for them to be if you are dressing alone. Once on, with my sloping shoulders, the straps will practise a merry jig un and down throughout the day in a most annoying fashion.
Underwear on followed by brown suit which despite myself looks fine.
Collect loads of messages of support from my Twitter friends and hop into the car with son also changed and ready to go.
Just listening to "It's really, really good" Lorraine Kelly talking about the vagina monologues. Think I have done the underwear one here, maybe the vagina next time lol
Tune is soon for reflections on my interview and why my 82 year old mother may well be pregnant