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To lube wrestle or not to lube wrestle..?

September 7, 2011

This whole wishlist adventure has given people the impression that I have a very high embarrassment threshold. And they’re right. I will do or say anything… as long as my kids approve.

Those hair-splitters among you might point out that I don’t have kids. That I’m about as far away from having kids as when I was a kid. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got all the makings of an embarrassing mother. When my children are older they’ll be able to appreciate my unique sense of style. But in the early stages they’ll have to deal with carrying the ginger gene. Can I really add “mummy was a lube-wrestler” to the mix?

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So when one or two birdies suggested that I wrestle another girl in a pool of water based lubricant at the Fabulosa Festival yesterday, I did think about it. But I decided that unless I could guarantee that the me of the future could afford to pay the child psychologist, I should say no. So in the name of economic prudence I blocked my ears to their carpe-diem-defences from the why-the-hell-not school of thought and I said thank you very much, I’m flattered you thought of asking, but unfortunately I will not be lube-wrestling today. In the process I had an epiphany. I discovered that I have limits when I thought I had none. I discovered that I will do absolutely anything, as long as my unborn children don’t mind.

But I still went to the match. In fact I was coaching feared and renowned lube wrestler – The Imprinter. Alas Imprinter lost. But she lost in style – preferring to make her opponent laugh rather than cry into submission. At a girl.

I did do a little arm wrestling though. But I’m ashamed admit that I made a gentlewoman’s agreement with my opponent Lou, that I’d be the one winning the bacon-flavoured lip balm. We still arm-wrestled for about 1 minute, during which Lou was pretending to type with her spare hand. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a worthy opponent, it just means that my bicep is the size of a pea and Lou is a kind soul who wanted me to be happy. Winning did mean that I had to wrestle somebody else. I lasted 2 seconds against that somebody – just long enough to feel my wrist almost snap in two.


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