Yeah. What a load of bullshit.
I'm now officially without a job. I assumed that pregnant women in this country had more rights than other people, but I guess I was wrong. I was given my maternity pay (which is pretty dismal) and ushered out the door. No redundancy pay. Not a cent. Synovate, the company I worked for, has a notoriously bad reputation for not only being tightwads, but treating their employees like robots (a statistic that I only just found out from people that have worked there for years).
For you folks across the pond, redundancy is a nice way of saying "getting fired". Although, they tend to do it a bit gentler over here, and give you some time to adjust before you're booted out the door. Plus, if you're made redundant, they can never hire a person that does that same job that you do in that company. So in many ways, you're a bit more protected that you are in the US. Usually.
In my situation, my boss was relocating to the US, and my job was becoming erased. And instead of having me stay on to do project work, they basically told me to either start my maternity 2 months' early (yeah, so that would mean not having those 2 months with my baby at the end of my maternity leave), or get out. After trying to negotiate with them for a few weeks, I saw that they really didn't give a rat's ass about my situation, so I decided to leave. It was so emotionally draining, I just gave up the fight.
On my last day, my spineless boss didn't even say goodbye, or thank me for working 10-hour days for him for almost a year. Yeah, try to figure that one out. Well, I say that's just bad karma for him, really. More importantly, I left with dignity, and without setting anything on fire or breaking something (though I was tempted). The girls next to my office gave me a bouquet and a card, which was really unexpected and sweet, so it reminds me that there are decent people in the world. When I got home, the mister surprised me with a DVD of "Office Space" (which for any of you who haven't seen it, is the perfect therapy if you ever get really jaded about work).
Anyway, that's the story. I think it's only now sinking in slowly that I'm on the precipice of motherhood, and I think that's another reason why I wanted to work as long as possible. It kind of delays the inevitable. Everyone keeps asking me "why? what are you afraid of? why delay it?" I can't explain it, and can only say that you'd have to be pregnant to understand. You want more time. More time to fit things in. And one of the things I like to do is work. I like the creativity of the industry I work in. I like the challenges. The dramas. I also like contributing to our household income, and that will never change. Even though everything we have is pooled together, I sometimes feel guilty that the mister is the one working his ass off for us. It's totally my own manufactured guilt, but that's just how I am. I want to roll my sleeves up and get in the mud with him, no matter what we do. But I'm having to tell myself that motherhood is just that- a huge job that requires loads of teamwork- so essentially, my job is just around the corner, in a way.
My focus now, other than getting freelance work in the pipeline for the next month, is to organise. Plan. Take some time to relax.
I'm still managing to get into town to do errands, getting last minute things, etc.. but my threshold is significantly lower. Dealing with pushy crowds and hot trains is not fun, but I manage about 4-5 hours before I'm done for the day. Luckily, my legs aren't swollen and I feel fine, but it's my body that starts slowing down and telling me "hey. lady. you don't have a limo driver to pick you up, so I suggest you make a beeline for that bus over there and go home".
Little things are becoming harder, but I'm managing to battle on. I can still shave my legs (thank god), I'm still managing to paint my toenails, I'm still managing to put together cute outfits that don't require a maternity tent-like thing. I even managed to go to that photo shoot.
Yeah, the photo shoot. In my last post, I told you that I was selected for an exhibit for this photographer named Rankin. I showed up in a really plain black top, no jewellery, and my wedding hat (as some added drama for fun). I was put into hair and makeup straight away, which scared me at first. These girls didn't look a day over 20 and when I told them the look I was going for (smudgy black eyes, busted rock-chic), they said "yeah. cool.", and dove in. The next thing I saw in the mirror was unrecognisable. My face looked caked in foundation, my cheekbones looked razor-sharp, my eyes were caked in black/grey/copper glitter. My hair was down and messy under my hat. The poor girls saw my terrified face and said "trust me, it'll look amazing on camera".
And they were right.
The photographers put me in front of a wind machine (no, I'm not kidding), and went to work. They took about 50 frames each of full-length and head-only shots. And as the shoot was going on, the pictures that they were taking were being shown on a huge screen in the public gallery.
Once the shoot was over, I was given a free 8x10 print then and there of the shot of my choice (also the shot that will be displayed on the public gallery wall), and I'll get the rest of the shots from that session on email, if I want any others blown up.
Can I be totally vain and say something really annoying?
That. Was. Amazing.
It was such an incredible experience, and I have never felt more beautiful in my entire life (well, except on my wedding day). But it was a weird and different kind of beauty, though, if I can try and justify it. It was glossy, magazine-print beauty. It was surreal and intense. It made me feel really vain as well, which was dangerous. The experience was also foreign to me in a lot of ways. I saw a look on my face that was new to me. Even the mister saw it and said "Wow. It's stunning, and definitely not a part of you that I recognise, which is really interesting."
I've always wanted to see what all that stuff is like, and I was able to get a small taste, which is really lucky. And I picked a full-length shot, which means our little one gets to see itself in that moment as well.*
And in a very big way, I liked that that moment made me feel good, because it was a few days after I lost my job. I managed to turn a situation that was personal for me in a bad way to a really great personal experience.
Myshka- 1
Synovate- 0
*once I get it emailed to me, I promise to post it.
Thursday 27 August 2009
Wednesday 19 August 2009
No way. Someone gave me an award. And yes, I'll take it.
And here I was thinking I never win anything.
The lovely Laura gave me this award the other day, and I must say, I'm flattered. I write this blog to put a pen to my random thoughts, but never thinking that it might connect with people. And if it does, that's the cherry on the cupcake. So, thanks Laura. And here's to you, you, you, yes you there, and of course you. I like you, I like your writing, you deserve an award for being inspiring and cool. Now go here and add your name to the "Super Cool" list of writers (yeah, that's not what it's actually called, but let's humour our egos a bit, eh?).
Speaking of inflated egos, I've been selected to participate in a photography exhibit called Rankin Live. This photographer has been around for a while and has done some amazing portraits and erotic photography, and he's doing an exhibit in London of "real people", whatever that means. Anyway, long story short, I sent in a pic (no, not nude, but I'm tempted), made the cut, and now I'll be standing in front of a big camera with professional lighting, while hair and makeup people slap some greasepaint on my face and make me into RuPaul. It sounds vain, but I don't really care. I've always wanted to try something like that, and hell, if I made the cut, then I'll take it for what it is, even at almost 8 months pregnant. I get to keep a 10x12 copy of the one that's selected for the exhibit, so if I hate it, I can always use it as a dartboard.
Other than that, things are going as well as can be expected when the maniacs at my job are trying to push me out the door and "eliminate" my job. Why? Because they can. Because of the recession. Because I'm pregnant and won't be able to look for other work, so I'm an easy target. Whatever, long story, I won't go into it. But I had to release that little comment into the universe because I've been patient and professional up until now. And now I just hope that karma seriously kicks them in the balls one day.
That would be their award.
Wednesday 5 August 2009
Crispy fried bump and love stories
I pretend that I'm olive skinned...I pretend that I'm a supermodel misting my skin with SPF 4 that smells like freshly grated coconut..I pretend that my skin can darken a lovely shade of mahogany when toasting myself in the sun..
Yeah, I'd laugh at me too. Turns out that my genius idea one day at "not using any SPF because my skin will be brown and freckly" was a pretty bad move. Hence parts of my face right now looked like I had an uber-expensive chemical peel. Okay, okay, it's not that bad, but definitely noticeable, and I'm trying to avoid any reflective surface at the moment.
We just spent 10 days hiding in couple bliss. It was a long-overdue treat for ourselves to "get off the grid", so to speak, and reconnect. To giggle. To swim in the sea. To parade around half-naked in 90-degree weather and do nothing but read and eat and sleep.
It was absolute heaven, though if I'm honest, it took me about 3 or 4 days to get into it. I found that my brain is so used to ticking away on a schedule, it's not used to being told "hey. shut the factory for a bit. There's nothing to do right now." The prospect of me not doing anything is sometimes a bit daunting, because I'm someone who really likes doing something all the time and not give myself space to breathe and relax. You know the feeling that you get when you start cleaning a room and then you get on a roll and clean the whole house? No? Okay, just me then... I guess I thought relaxing time means idle time, and idle time is equivalent to boredeom, and hey... can I do that for you? What about that, that looks interesting... I can help...
When I finally did straight-jacket my inner loony, I can't describe how deeply poignant it felt to sit in a disappearing sunset, hair crusty with sea salt, and do absolutely nothing but stare at the sea. Or look over at my other half. My puzzle piece. My bestest friend in the entire world. And I relished it. I relished just staring at his handsome face. And what's more fun is that in those moments he wouldn't say anything, he'd just smile crookedly the way he does only to me, and brush my cheek. You know that feeling when you look at the person you love striding up to you and you get faint butterflies and you feel like you have a hopeless crush? Yeah, I have that. And I love every cheezy second of it.
It's a quick ride, it feels, to the end of this pregnancy, and sometimes I feel like there's so much to do, and sometimes I feel like I've done as much as I can. Usually, it's the former feeling that takes over. Mostly, I feel like I want more time. More hours in the day. More days doing fun stuff, more days as a couple, more days to stuff like pillow cushions in between the existing days so that time doesn't go by too quickly.
I was pretty sad about coming back home to London. Not sad in a depressed way, but just wishing that it hadn't gone by so quickly for us. I felt like a little kid that wanted to stay up past her bedtime, pleading with her parents just a little bit more.. please? just a little more...
I was also cranky and hormonal because I ended up with a fried face (oh, the vanity that I posses, it's kind of annoying), so you can imagine what a thrill I was to travel with on the way back. The mister has the patience of a saint, which I'm constantly grateful for.
I also realised that in this hormonal soup of feelings that is being stirred up a couple times a week, what comes to the surface a lot is fear.. nervousness.. insecurity..but along with that also comes a good dose of love..joy..gratefulness..excitement. I've never professed to be an eternally happy-go-lucky person, though I am most of the time- and I do have my moments where I disintegrate into that dramatic Eastern European place in my head that makes me into a drama queen. And lately, the highs and the lows seem to be much deeper trenches that are harder to get out of. Harder to pick myself up on my own and grit my teeth. And because I find it harder to do that, I see that as a bit of weakness on my part, and I get angry. And the person next to me feels the brunt of it. It's a bad habit.
Yes, the nervousness and the vague negativity is only temporary, and I've been teaching myself to recognise it coming and to diffuse it appropriately. A lot of things will change in 2 months and I know that we'll handle it like we do anything: as a new adventure.
But right now, in the midst of all this, what makes me feel better is letting myself indulge in the rich moments. The sweet stuff. The little "I love yous" whispered at night with such magic intensity. The hands entwining. The arms around waists that signal equal parts support and possession. The heads tucked in together as if conspiring in secret. The inside jokes. The pats on the bum when we walk next to eachother. I know these things change and evolve and get deeper and more amazing with each passing day, but right now I feel like I want to grasp every nuance that these moments posses- as if I were trying to catch wisps of gossamer. I want to burn these days in my memory and feverishly write them down. I'm realising that there is never again another first, just like there isn't another last. So this pregnancy is like the first kiss, the first crush, the first trip, the first song, the first dance. It's completely precious and unique and memorable.
I know I'm romanticizing it a bit, but that's how it feels for me. Sometimes, I can just get on with it and not be too mushy. But other times, especially when we feel kicks, I become overwhelmed with these kind of feelings. I have to remind myself that holy jesus, we're having a baby. wow. It's mind-blowing to think that out of the billions of people out there, we met, we knew that we were it and we've now created a little mini-us. It's completely crazy in the best sense of the word. In the beginning I thought.. nah. can't be. this handsome thing and klutsy, brash little me? how the hell is this going to work? you're kidding. And I stand astoundingly corrected and happier than I ever have been in my entire life. I've learned things that I never thought I could, and look forward to challenges that we'll never be able to plan. I look at how the both of us learn and grow, and how tender and protective we are of our little story. And now we're stepping into a completely crazy circus that'll be filled with little feet and giggles and stories and immense love. Another stop on this ever lengthening road-trip.
Don't worry, the sun hasn't fried my brain too. I guess vacations have a tendency to make you a bit introspective.
Yeah, I'd laugh at me too. Turns out that my genius idea one day at "not using any SPF because my skin will be brown and freckly" was a pretty bad move. Hence parts of my face right now looked like I had an uber-expensive chemical peel. Okay, okay, it's not that bad, but definitely noticeable, and I'm trying to avoid any reflective surface at the moment.
We just spent 10 days hiding in couple bliss. It was a long-overdue treat for ourselves to "get off the grid", so to speak, and reconnect. To giggle. To swim in the sea. To parade around half-naked in 90-degree weather and do nothing but read and eat and sleep.
It was absolute heaven, though if I'm honest, it took me about 3 or 4 days to get into it. I found that my brain is so used to ticking away on a schedule, it's not used to being told "hey. shut the factory for a bit. There's nothing to do right now." The prospect of me not doing anything is sometimes a bit daunting, because I'm someone who really likes doing something all the time and not give myself space to breathe and relax. You know the feeling that you get when you start cleaning a room and then you get on a roll and clean the whole house? No? Okay, just me then... I guess I thought relaxing time means idle time, and idle time is equivalent to boredeom, and hey... can I do that for you? What about that, that looks interesting... I can help...
When I finally did straight-jacket my inner loony, I can't describe how deeply poignant it felt to sit in a disappearing sunset, hair crusty with sea salt, and do absolutely nothing but stare at the sea. Or look over at my other half. My puzzle piece. My bestest friend in the entire world. And I relished it. I relished just staring at his handsome face. And what's more fun is that in those moments he wouldn't say anything, he'd just smile crookedly the way he does only to me, and brush my cheek. You know that feeling when you look at the person you love striding up to you and you get faint butterflies and you feel like you have a hopeless crush? Yeah, I have that. And I love every cheezy second of it.
It's a quick ride, it feels, to the end of this pregnancy, and sometimes I feel like there's so much to do, and sometimes I feel like I've done as much as I can. Usually, it's the former feeling that takes over. Mostly, I feel like I want more time. More hours in the day. More days doing fun stuff, more days as a couple, more days to stuff like pillow cushions in between the existing days so that time doesn't go by too quickly.
I was pretty sad about coming back home to London. Not sad in a depressed way, but just wishing that it hadn't gone by so quickly for us. I felt like a little kid that wanted to stay up past her bedtime, pleading with her parents just a little bit more.. please? just a little more...
I was also cranky and hormonal because I ended up with a fried face (oh, the vanity that I posses, it's kind of annoying), so you can imagine what a thrill I was to travel with on the way back. The mister has the patience of a saint, which I'm constantly grateful for.
I also realised that in this hormonal soup of feelings that is being stirred up a couple times a week, what comes to the surface a lot is fear.. nervousness.. insecurity..but along with that also comes a good dose of love..joy..gratefulness..excitement. I've never professed to be an eternally happy-go-lucky person, though I am most of the time- and I do have my moments where I disintegrate into that dramatic Eastern European place in my head that makes me into a drama queen. And lately, the highs and the lows seem to be much deeper trenches that are harder to get out of. Harder to pick myself up on my own and grit my teeth. And because I find it harder to do that, I see that as a bit of weakness on my part, and I get angry. And the person next to me feels the brunt of it. It's a bad habit.
Yes, the nervousness and the vague negativity is only temporary, and I've been teaching myself to recognise it coming and to diffuse it appropriately. A lot of things will change in 2 months and I know that we'll handle it like we do anything: as a new adventure.
But right now, in the midst of all this, what makes me feel better is letting myself indulge in the rich moments. The sweet stuff. The little "I love yous" whispered at night with such magic intensity. The hands entwining. The arms around waists that signal equal parts support and possession. The heads tucked in together as if conspiring in secret. The inside jokes. The pats on the bum when we walk next to eachother. I know these things change and evolve and get deeper and more amazing with each passing day, but right now I feel like I want to grasp every nuance that these moments posses- as if I were trying to catch wisps of gossamer. I want to burn these days in my memory and feverishly write them down. I'm realising that there is never again another first, just like there isn't another last. So this pregnancy is like the first kiss, the first crush, the first trip, the first song, the first dance. It's completely precious and unique and memorable.
I know I'm romanticizing it a bit, but that's how it feels for me. Sometimes, I can just get on with it and not be too mushy. But other times, especially when we feel kicks, I become overwhelmed with these kind of feelings. I have to remind myself that holy jesus, we're having a baby. wow. It's mind-blowing to think that out of the billions of people out there, we met, we knew that we were it and we've now created a little mini-us. It's completely crazy in the best sense of the word. In the beginning I thought.. nah. can't be. this handsome thing and klutsy, brash little me? how the hell is this going to work? you're kidding. And I stand astoundingly corrected and happier than I ever have been in my entire life. I've learned things that I never thought I could, and look forward to challenges that we'll never be able to plan. I look at how the both of us learn and grow, and how tender and protective we are of our little story. And now we're stepping into a completely crazy circus that'll be filled with little feet and giggles and stories and immense love. Another stop on this ever lengthening road-trip.
Don't worry, the sun hasn't fried my brain too. I guess vacations have a tendency to make you a bit introspective.
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