Just doodling again yesterday and made this collage of birdies.
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I've had a bad night, funny dreams and woke at 3am. I knew I was wide awake so by 3.30am I was on my computer with himself sleeping soundly in the next room. I've watched it grow light and seen changes of colour in the sky. The sun is not up enough over the rooftops for me to see.
I was talking to a friend the other day about someone who was pregnant.
Pregnant......now there's a word.
It set me thinking of how different my pregnancy was in the 50's. For a start I couldn't say I was pregnant! I was 'expecting', according to my mother. She insisted on coming with me for my first pre natal exam and as I lay on the bed I was asking the doctor questions. When we got outside she was horrified! That I should dare to ask questions! According to her the doctor was something like a God to be in absolute awe of.
Of course I read everything I could, I was pretty ignorant at the time and there were no smart magazines telling you what to expect.
Nowadays, girls walk around in tight clothes, proudly showing their 'bump' or even have it nakedly in view for public gaze. I'm not a prude but I don't always like something 'in my face' as they say.
In the 50's, I was not ashamed of my bump but things were a little more decorous. I wore tight skirts and a pretty short smock. I remember taking my precious black givrine pencil skirt and cutting a big horseshoe shape out of the front and adding tapes to hold it on. So the bottom half of your silhouette was slim! Your only other choice was a wrap around skirt. No fancy maternity clothes then.
My mother and stepfather kept a large public house and I worked this long bar alone. The comments you got sick of hearing...'June is busting out all over'....or 'have you tried vanishing cream?' etc. I just gave these male customers a condescending smile and carried on regardless.
Then there were old wives tales. Usually again these were regaled by male customers. I think women had much more sense. I was cuddling my little sister's pet rabbit one day in the yard and a workman who was there said ominously..'you shouldn't be playing with that rabbit. Your baby will be born with a rabbit birthmark'.
Oh those old memories! Thankfully my son was born with no birthmarks, rabbit or otherwise.
Oh and husbands were not allowed to be present at the birth, which was at home.
Both my parents were horrified when I suggested it.
'Do you want your names in the News of the World?'
My UK readers will know it was and still is in some opinions, a rather salacious newspaper.
Does any of this ring a bell with you?
Love and Hugs