Oh Holy Jesus. Current goal has been succeeded, but at the expense of waistline. Weight: 140 pounds. Have managed to gain 7lbs in the space of 2 weeks. Obviously, replacing smoking with candy is not working (who would have thought?). Hmmm, smoking or candy? One of life's greatest and trivial matters that can only be solved by experimentation. Have concluded that, after said experimentation, that even though smoking will kill me, I would rather die 7 pounds lighter.
However, the above matter is not the cause for my recent profanity ( I truly am sorry, Jesus).The world renown sex god, Mark, (who also happens to be sleeping with me. Hoorah!) has a brother. Mark has a brother, who has a wife, who has a baby. And what, may you ask, comes with a baby newly born into an uptight Christian family? Well, apart from the burping, and the pooing, and the constant screaming that tortures you into the early hours of the morning and could tempt the Pope to commit suicide, there is one…more…thing. A christening.
Due to a previous encounter with a priest, a church, and some Holy water, I dread celebrations involving one or more of the above things. Apparently Holy water can not be used as an extinguisher, even though it could potentially save a priest and a church (or maybe the fact that I may have accidentally started the fire was what sent me in disgrace), and apparently when people join the church they lose their ability to laugh. Enough said.
"…I christen thee -." Well then, so far, so good. Have decided to wear sensible clothing and sensible hair – am the epitome of mature, classy, serious journalist with a successful barrister hanging off her arm. 10 points for Bridget.
"Bridge…" Ah, sex god is calling.
"Oh, yes?"
"Meet my brother, Anthony." Serious face, serious face, serious face. Must not laugh at obvious short straw in genetics.
"Helooo." Serious face, serious face, serious face.
"Thank you so much for coming." Ignore sweaty hand. DO NOT wipe hand on skirt. This would be the most undignified response to hand shaking.
"…This is my wife, Lydia."
"Hi there." Not to self: never have children. Apparently weight gained during pregnancy is hard to work off.
"And this, of course, is our darling."
"Oh, right!" Act interested in little naked blob with no hair (obviously missed warning that baby would be naked. Also, apparently missed Mark telling me that said baby was in fact a girl). No! Try not to notice said nakedness. Ask thoughtful questions of girl that would indicate interest.
"So…how old is this gorgeous little girl?" Silence.
Hmmm, facial expression of sex God not entirely pleasing. Could parents have somehow taken offense to question?
"Uuuum….Patrick just turned 6 months." Patrick? Odd name for a girl…maybe in future will call her Patty….
"Aah, Bridget…." Why is Mark giving me funny look?
"Yes?"
"Aaaahhh…" Follow Mark's gaze to baby. Am deeply disturbed that I find myself looking at baby's….Oh!
"Patrick, is a boy…obviously." B-u-g-g-e-r. Control embarrassment. It's okay. Simple mistake that anyone could make. Just grin and bare it.
"Oh! Aaah, sorry." Cue apologetic face. Obviously cannot regain serious and mature status, so will just remain mute for entire morning.
Note to self: Schedule appointment with optometrist when home.