The stories I don’t tell

I know it doesn’t seem quite possible that the Queen of TMI could have any secrets she hasn’t shared, but there are some things I decide shouldn’t blog about because they’re not mine to tell or they’re a bit too … much

One of the “too much” ones occurred this week and involved my nether regions. I tested it out on a workmate who is fairly impossible to shock and she thought it was hilarious.

I decided it was a shame to let the incident go to waste, so I wrote a “secret” blog about it and sent it to a friend who was in need of a laugh. It was great to hear that it made her day.

Buoyed by my success, I proceeded to regale a table of my local friends with the story at a restaurant. They seemed to think it was pretty funny too.

DD texted me during dessert to check why I’d been so quiet all night (it worries him when that happens because it’s so completely out of character). I told him I’d been busy telling outrageous tales.

“Again!!!???” he replied.

DD gets a bit nervous about my outrageous tale telling. I was banned from saying anything too naughty at a recent board dinner he took me to as his date. He thought I might be a bit too out-there for the staid medical set.

I’ve become progressively “out-there” with age. There’s something about approaching 50 that makes you think “What the hell?”

Although I must admit it sometimes comes at a price. After I’ve had a no-holds-barred blather I often go home and completely flagellate myself for being so lacking in decorum.

But the urge to give people a laugh is just too great. I love to brighten a day with a funny story.


Like the time I was Googled By My Gyno:  “I shoot the breeze with EVERYONE these days so, after I’d shimmied off the gyno’s examination table, we started discussing my job. And the gyno admitted he’d Googled me after my last visit, following my suggestion he read a story I’d written about Lara Bingle (and her amazing boobs). I told him Googling me had taken on a whole new dimension in the past week due to the phrase “triceratops sex position.”

Or the time I gave myself a Brazilian.

Actually, I’m having trouble recalling funny blog posts I’ve written. Is there one you remember?

And then there are the things that make ME laugh, as explored in How to tickle my funny bone, including a poem the eldest wrote when she was 10:

The great cake eater, his name was Peter

He ate cake raw, he ate cake baked

He ate round cakes (called pancakes)

But now poor Peter is no more

Because he exploded (big guffaw)

No, it’s true I tell you, do not laugh

I still have his icky scarf.

I also wrote one called Sooooo funny in 2013, which gave me a bit of a shudder as it talked about my ex and I riffing together and laughing. You find those ones and think “so we were still laughing together in 2013 … I wonder when the laughing stopped?”

And, finally, here’s a blog I wrote about why There will always be TMI.

I still think there always will be TMI in my real life – it seems to have become part of my new DNA – but maybe not the blog. I’m wondering (yet again) if the day is coming when the blog needs to end.

Until then, I hope it makes you smile.

Song of the day: Steve Harley “Make me smile”





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