{"id":405,"date":"2010-03-14T09:04:29","date_gmt":"2010-03-14T09:04:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/?p=405"},"modified":"2012-05-29T22:00:36","modified_gmt":"2012-05-29T21:00:36","slug":"im-just-a-teenage-dirtbag-baby-happy-mothers-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/2010\/03\/im-just-a-teenage-dirtbag-baby-happy-mothers-day\/","title":{"rendered":"I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby – no really!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Teenwolf demonstrating need to touch ball at all times<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Yesterday afternoon we ended up at a party with a cast of dozens from a 6 month old baby to a 79 year old but the most prevalent group were the teenwolves\u00a0 patrolling the premises, hands jammed into pockets, perusing the scene picking off the sausage rolls and cans of Irn Bru and surrepticiously eyeing up the lager.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The highlight of any mixed gathering of ages is observing the crushing inhibition of the teenagers\u00a0versus the total lack of inhibition of the elderly. I often think you could rule the world if you had the lack of inhibition of a 79 year old whilst line-free young and with it all ahead of you.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
My role model<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Anyway I digress.\u00a0One of the teenwolves in evidence\u00a0was wearing a pair of jeans, which had more holes than jeans, the\u00a0crotch of which was actually\u00a0toying with trailing along the ground. As he\u00a0leaned louchely yet desperately self-consciously\u00a0against a wall, slugging a can\u00a0and feeling like the dogs bahookey\u00a0 my Mum\u00a0went up, smiled at him and asked.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Grotty Jeans 2010 style<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Are\u00a0they meant to be like that?\u00a0<\/p>\n

Yes these are the\u00a0 best jeans I’ve ever owned he said as if that justified the threadbare mass that barely clung to his form.\u00a0 Oh she said turning to me, they look like yours. Eh? A brief glance down at my own\u00a0legs which were covered in more lycra than denim, thigh squishing, bum holding inners\u00a0and \u00a0dark dark\u00a0 blue for maximum slimming effect made me think for a moment yup she’s finally lost it\u00a0but then another look at the teenagers\u00a0jeans brought it all back.<\/p>\n

When a teenwolf myself I had a pair of leg coverings made of denim, to call them jeans would be an insult to all jeans everywhere.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Perfect for a family dinner in The Cotwolds.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

They were made up a myriad of patches that my pal Johnny MacFarlane had made and after much pestering had leant to me for a family holiday to The Cotwolds. I was keeping them for a special occasion so as we checked into a Stately Home that was also running as a B&B my parents had no idea that having weighed up the surroundings of opulence and grandeur I decided tonight was the night to debut the fabulous denim look. Arranging to meet in the downstairs bar at 7pm\u00a0gave me just about long enough to\u00a0squish my body into\u00a0said jeans before sauntering downstairs and into the bar. On entering I made two instantaneous observations 1\u00a0Surprisingly Jimmy Hill the pointy chinned sports commentator was standing with a crowd around him\u00a0holding court at the bar and more urgently<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Pointy Jim at the bar -who'd have thunk it.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a02.\u00a0my Dad’s face had turned from a normal ruddy Scottish hue to a deep rumbling red. ‘You are not wearing those to eat dinner’ – he pointed at my jeans. Yes I am.\u00a0No you\u00a0are not. Yes I am .\u00a0 No You are not. OK I said I\u00a0don’t want dinner anyway and out I stomped in high dudgeon back to my room.\u00a0 God I was hungry.\u00a0 As time went on I expected the Peace Keeper that was my mum to come up and say ‘OK Alison if you ditch the breeks you can come back down and eat’\u00a0 but she didn’t.<\/p>\n

So I\u00a0\u00a0ran a bath and boiled myself to distract from the hunger and fury and unjust world in which I found myself and as I lay there listening to my battery operated radio the shocking\u00a0news that Elvis Presley had died was announced.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
The gorgeous Elvis swoon.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a0August 16th 1977.\u00a0 I was 15.\u00a0 Teenwolf is 15. It brought it back, that moment, that era, that\u00a0age, \u00a0like an anvil to\u00a0the\u00a0head. Trousers, hormones, making a stand, unjust parents, them in control, me in purgatory, my pals being great,them being the worst parents ever. And here I am. Roles reversed. The words ‘you are not wearing those to visit your Grandma’ has come out of my mouth on more than one occasion and his reaction of ‘well I’m not coming’ has too.<\/p>\n

So\u00a0as it turns out \u00a0\u00a0‘I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby’ could have been penned by me, a now\u00a040 something woman in her bedroom in the 70’s as\u00a0the universal recognition of the circle of hormones – never mind life – is inescapable.
\nWill this turn me into a more maleable understanding cool parent? I’d like to say yeh but I suspect I already know the answer will be to quote another family favourite ‘over my dead body’ followed by the teenager of whatever era muttering under their breath ‘if you insist’.<\/p>\n

To all mothers everywhere. This is not a comedy sketch a documentary.
\n<\/embed><\/object><\/p>\n

HAPPY\u00a0MOTHERS<\/strong> DAY -!<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 Yesterday afternoon we ended up at a party with a cast of dozens from a 6 month old baby to a 79 year old…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[25,24,104,77],"tags":[124,119,32,109,116,112,115,107,114,120,117,111,125,128,127,110,122,118,123,126,121,80,108,113,106,1584,57],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/405"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=405"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/405\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=405"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=405"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alisonsdiary.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=405"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}