Opinion

Thirty Something is back in front

By Shepparton News

Just in case you were wondering, I’m back.

Back in front.

Where I belong.

And back in the mainstream; the holiday is over even though the honeymoon continues, and this week I have been back at the helm.

The first day, as expected, was a write-off. Everyone wanting to hear everything about anything – from my grand departure to the wedding and beyond.

The beyond, of course, is obviously beyond the grasp of the office wannabes, the scattering of C-tier colleagues (they are allowed to perch on the edge of my desk if no-one else is present) and sprinkling of those lesser others in the office I do not know, let alone acknowledge.

It is a somewhat exhilarating experience to realise, in the eyes of this motley but amusingly adorable little cluster, you are still the person they most aspire to be.

It centres you; much more than two hours of masks and deep facials; more than a massage with infused old growth ginseng in the oil and finished with a little reflexology to release any clogged channels disrupting my overall harmony.

Nothing is more harmonious than being the centre of everyone’s world. Now that does balance you.

And rejuvenated, restored to my rightful place, I have been able to put some of the confusing issues of recent weeks behind me.

I trust you have noticed the subtlety of that remark – confusing issues, not my confusion.

I don’t really get confused. About anything. Ever.

Although I may have come close after receiving a couple of calls from my A-list pals, who confessed they were a tad confused about my wavering between love and lust.

Take home message here; maybe some things should not be shared with the hoi polloi for reasons of their emotional wellbeing – they get too emotional when they grasp the full extent of the gulf between them and me and mine.

Mine.

Me and mine.

Mine.

Noblesse oblige brings certain responsibilities with it. Basically, it means we haves have a certain obligation to help you have-nots.

Of course; that rarely happens; although I do my best to assist where and when possible.

And speaking of me, and of mine, I have found in my brave new world of me and Him that the word ‘mine’ has become somewhat life rearranging. Yes, I think that’s the best word for the occasion.

It did have me a little out of sorts; coming to grips with its intervention in my nicely ordered world.

When suddenly, having a long hard look at myself in the wrapround mirrors of my dressing room, I realised why things are put a certain way.

Me – obviously that comes first.

And mine – see how simple that makes it?

There’s me and then everything (and everyone) else is mine.

(Sigh).

So simple yet for some reason it had initially eluded me; probably because of noblesse oblige.

I was wasting too much time trying to share myself amongst too many people.

Even A-listers have their wants and needs. They don’t openly seek them, but there are nuances that send signals the rest of us can clearly read. Such as wearing your primary combination for spring, for example, twice in the same three months.

Yes, you can adapt parts of it, but only in the most discreet manner; not as a screaming statement of ‘don’t look at me, don’t look at me’.

All that does is make people stare, not look.

Then the whispers start, cocooned in concern of course, but whispers nonetheless. I don’t spread them, also of course. My job is to start them so I can engender some sympathy in the A scene for the misbegotten soul in dire need of emotional (and tawdry financial) intervention.

There must also be concerns that the individual’s ‘mine’ might be at the seat of the problem, and that involves a whole new approach with the whispers.

Something I was explaining last evening to my ‘mine’ so He could grasp the need for sensitivity and awareness of another’s plight.

All of which, I have to write, left him more than a little confused.

And when it comes to confusion, where this all started, that’s good enough for me – as I smiled at my wraparound reflection in my undressing room (it is late evening after all), dabbed that final hint of Clive Christian (from the To Kill range) and set about compounding His confusion.

Yes girls, I’m back.