Froot Loop Induced Confessions

Froot Loops will cure anything.

OK well I admit that this theory is obviously flawed but right now it feels like they’re helping me.

I’m onto my second day in bed sick.  And I’m bored.  And I’m tired.  And I want my energy back.

It started off with an aching body but last night I spent an hour lying on the bathroom floor with sweat dripping off me like I’d run a half marathon.  That just sounds sexy doesn’t it?  Am I setting the mood for you?

Anyway, when I woke this morning I decided that the one thing I wanted to eat today was Froot Loops.

I managed to pull some clothes on around lunch time and make my way to the store.  My hands were shaking as I walked around and grabbed the few necessities and I was slightly embarrassed at the checkout as I purchased my incredibly unhealthy treat.

I don’t remember the last time I ate the little rings of colourful sugar but I tell you they smell and taste just as I remember.  And I love them now just as much as I loved them as a child.

Having this much time in bed has allowed me to watch documentaries.  Literally almost back to back documentaries for 3 days now.  I started off wanting to watch the 2013 Academy Award nominated documentaries and then started looking at previous years and then I trolled through Netflix.  I have an obsession with docos.  I took a course on documentary making at the Sydney University many years ago.  I don’t remember much but I do remember Paul Keatings’ two daughters being in the class with me.

I’ll put up a list of documentaries that I think are worth while watching.

My favourite documentaries are about crimes and the people who commit them.  I’m intrigued as to what makes people do the things they do.  How did they get to being in the situation they’re in, making the clearly, very bad decisions which lead to death, prison, unhappiness and hurting the people they love.

Maybe I am so intrigued because I’ve never really broken the rules.  As a kid I always did as I was told, I was not the black sheep of the family at all.  I was the good daughter.  If you know my family you’ll agree with me that my brother was and still is the black sheep.  And it’s not that I’m the white sheep ... I’m not even a sheep, I’m like a bull in a china shop, a polar bear and a pink and grey galah.  Painful, rare and free.

But I have done a couple of things that were naughty as a child, teenager, adult.

So here’s my sugar induced confession.

When I was about 9 my brother and I played ball in the house and broke the ear off one of my Mom’s tiny porcelain cats from her collection.  We never admitted to it but apparently she knew anyway.

When I was 14 my friend and her family lived over the back fence.  Her Dad and Uncles smoked and she used to sneak out tobacco and rolling paper and we would smoke rollie cigarettes over the fence near the chook (chicken) shed.

When I was 21 some friends and I stole a street sign and I drove around with it in the back of my car for a few days but I felt so guilty and was convinced I was going to get stopped by the police for a random boot (trunk) inspection that I took it back.

When I was 29 a friend and I were walking home from the pub sharing a bottle of pink champagne, because that’s what tough girls drink!  We were stopped by the police only metres from the house and when they queried as to whether we were drinking (street drinking is illegal in Australia) my automatic response was to lie.  But my friend, who I thought was hard core, confessed, she rolled over to the cops and they made us tip out a perfectly good bottle of $16 champagne.

And that’s it.  That’s about as bad as it gets for me.

Well actually that’s as much as I’m going to confess right now.  I guess you have to get to know me more before I give up all my secrets.

... onto my second bowl of Froot Loops.