Vicki: Coming To a Bus Near You!

My life is always fairly varied and interesting. I like that. This week however I received a call and offer which highlighted just how utterly absurd it has become. Ya see, I’m going to be living out my Carrie Bradshaw dream. Yes. My picture is going to go on the side of a bus. I’ll say it again. I’m a (try hard blog) writer who is going to have their picture on the SIDE OF A BUS. Shut up, I’m not even kidding you!

I wish I was cute and petite and getting about in a little pink tutu teamed with a fitted singlet with my nips bra free just like Carrie, but no, I did this shoot in my 40 week, bosoms ready to fire milk, condition. WTF right? Like seriously, WTF?!?!?! The world has gone mad I tell you.

Doing a modelling shoot at 40 weeks pregnant was not something I had ever thought possible. Not a non maternity shoot anyway. Not in my wildest dreams. It’s cray cray crazzzzzyy! Even though I have always dreamt my entire life of being able to say: Vicki: Coming to a bus near you!  

The idea is the belly will be chopped out. No one will even have an inkling of my expectancy. In theory. It’s a boobies and up kinda thing. The type of situation which has made me question whether my preggi-ness has indeed given me a little extra chub around the face, a little extra chin… but hey it didn’t stop me gorging on a bag of Clinkers last night before the shoot.

The gig itself is an advertisement for a Kleenmaid oven. Neat stove at that. I was tempted to ask for my payment to be in the form of an oven but then I’d have to actually bake right? Not just pretend to be a glamour puss house-wife who diligently whips up a trays of cupcakes. As I’m sure you all do.

The first debacle was deciding, no wait, finding something, anything, that would be appropriate AND fit to wear. I almost dropped to the kitchen floor with laughter when the marketing lady asked if I could just pop on a red halterneck dress for the shoot…. like yep sure, I’ve been wearing one my entire pregnancy. They totally look uber sexy on gestating woman. How could I explain I had been mostly reduced to trackies and stretchy Target tops for the past month?

Then there was the hair. I was supposed to come in with my own 1950′s hair style… I have done many a vintage hair do in my time but lets be frank since becoming a mother almost 3 years ago my hair has been lucky to catch a glimpse of a hair brush… so I started my day off busting out the old school, dusty, hot rollers which mean’t Mr Vick woke to this vision of housewife goddess-ness:

before the make up

Stunning isn’t it? (*sarcasm to the max*) You will also note the slight pink burn on the forehead from straightening my hair over the weekend… that was excellent timing but half an hour with a make up artist and I was this glamour puss:

glamour vicki

Yes. I could keep that make up artist. In fact I never want to take my make up off. I’m considering having it tattooed on. The hair never did look very 1950′s but it was done at least.

Then I lined up for a few test shots

on set at Pivot shoot

And got paid to smile for the next hour and look ‘Mumsy’

On set at Pivot

and bend my legs a bit. Yah, I was totally doing squats on and off for an hour to play hidey with the bump. Not looking quite so model like under the bench.

bending preggie

want a cupcake

And that was my day getting my Mumsy model on. Now I just wait for the final image which will be plastered across some bus and then I will be susceptible to a lifetime of jokes about how I indeed look like the size of a bus…

Tomorrow I’m 40 weeks pregnant. D day arrives and now I will sit and behave and be a proper preggie for whatever time I have left. I will do my best anyway ;-)

I Heart Little Picasso

Sheezers. I’ve become one of those mothers. It disgusts me a little.

Once upon a time, I thought gushing mothers who bothered to post photos of ordinary things, or more to the point ordinary kids, were real soft. I even went to the extent of openly making fun of them, at least to my other child free friends anyway. They were always in agreeance with me. On my side. We would never be on that side. But as it would have it, karma that is, I’ve become one of them on that side.

Aside from the Monolo Blahnik’s, I have always thought of myself to be simular to Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, somewhat in style anyway. My ego won’t settle for anything less. Well, Ok… I’ve got the curly hair at least… I’ve also likened parts of my attitude to the cynical, affection/gushy shy, Miranda. So that’s why I feel a tad uncomfortable with this overwhelming warm and fuzzy silliness that I experience on a near daily basis now. I’ve changed. Weakened clearly.

It’s a kid right? Finger painting (first time ever!!) - hardly life changing? Except mine. This kid has bought all the changes. So judge me as you will, judgemental childless fiends.

 

Just call him Mini Picasso. Have you seen such technique in finger strokes? He has a knack you could say. Not even a messy artist, a characteristic only a Mummy can be proud of/thankful for.

Don’t you love how his colour choices suit his eyes? Now there is a real moment of warm and fuzzy weakness.

Clearly these masterpieces are the first of hundreds to grace our fridge over the next decade. I love that thought. I can’t wait :)