All I Want For Christmas

Everyone dreams of what they want for Christmas. Mariah Carey wanted a lush man to call her own (who doesn't?), Bing Cosby dreamt of having a 'White Christmas' (great if you don't have to board a tube or hit the M25) and Eartha Kitt wanted Santa to 'hurry down the chimney' with a yacht, a ring and the deeds to a platinum mine. Fair play Eartha, if you don't ask you don't get.

Well, I don't want a lot for Christmas,
There are just six things I need,
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree


I just want:

1. My 2009 Vagina Back. 

Yes. I would like my vagina restored to it's previous mint condition of 2009 (ie. before I had kids). I would like to be free to do spontaneous cartwheels or star jumps on a trampoline without worrying about the consequences. I don't want to live in fear of an ill-timed sneeze. I don't want an hysterical belly laugh to end in tears of shame. I want to cough. I want to laugh. I want to sneeze. I want to lunge whenever the mood takes me. I just want things back....the way they were.

2. An Expressionless Belly

Since having kids, I have noticed that my belly has a great big line across it that looks like a smile. I stand in the mirror looking at my belly and it smiles back at me with an evil grimace that spreads across the skin, peaking upwards at the that of the Grinch who stole Christmas. It's laughing at me, it's mocking me. It's the smug smile that stole my once flat(ish) midriff . I would like a regular belly, not frowning, not smiling....just a neutral expression would suffice.

move over jim carey....there's a new grinch in town

move over jim carey....there's a new grinch in town

3. Boobs that face front.

I would like boobs that face front...not ones that disappear under my arms when I take my bra off. In the (unlikely) event of someone behind me deciding to check out my ass on the street, they shouldn't be able to get an eyeful of my boobs at the same time. They should at least attempt to have a conversation with me and pretend to look in my eyes whilst having a cheeky peek at the good stuff. This is the way it should be. I want my front-facing boobs of 2009 back please. They were great.

4. Intellect.

I used to be reasonably clever back in 2009. I used to have a decent vocabulary. I was able to string a sentence together and hold conversations with equally intelligent human beings. Now, I am drooling pathetic wreck who often forgets what day it is, how old I am and what I should be doing at any given moment. My vocabulary has gotten badder and I have forgotten how to sphell and punkchewate,.... correctly,.! I want my bahrains back please. Santa

5. Energy

I want to be able to leap out of my bed in the mornings like a cheerleader on a pogo stick. I don't want to spend my days forcing Nescafé and Red Bull down my throat just so that I can stay conscious for long enough to raise my kids. I want my energy back, my spirit, my mojo. The mojo of 2009 in fact.

6.  Mary Poppins' Magical Mitts.

I want to sing 'A Spoonful of Sugar' with an impeccable English accent whilst repeatedly clicking my fingers and then watch all of my washing fold itself and leap into the drawers. I want the toys to jump back into the toy box and for the beds to make themselves. I also wouldn't mind owning a handbag that could hold an entire hat stand. Even though I don't own any hats, I still want it. Just because it's cool.

Dear Santa, hurry down the chimney and give me these things. Pretty please.

If not, I guess I'll settle for new jammies, slippers and festive socks....and a life-size cardboard cut-out of Hugh Jackman. He will fit perfectly into my new bottomless handbag should you decide to give it to me.

Fanks Santa. You is nice.,-really you are:!..

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