Birthday bum

It was my biiiiiiiiiirthday yesterday!!! I turned the wrong side of 25... It's all downhill from here. Thirty is around the corner and I don't think there's any fending it off. Woke up to discover a very small but very real wrinkle in the centre of my chest, made all the more visible by the early-morning light... Went into cardiac arrest, then promptly raced to chemist, purchased a bottle of Bio Oil and proceeded to pour its entire contents on to my chest for rapid ageing relief. I now keep it in my handbag as a threat to any emerging signs of impending 30s.

Had a great present opening session in the morning... Seems someone enjoyed it even more than I did:

Once we managed to untangle Lyla from all the pretty ribbon, I got up and dressed in all my new Zara attire... At which point memories from the previous night's antics came flooding back in bits and bobs:

• Squeezing 6 people into one car...

• Pulling party poppers at Kitima and causing a bomb scare.

• Almost setting friend's hair on fire due to overexcitement with a sparkler.

• Drinking both of these:

• Being serenaded 'Happy Birthday' by friend at midnight to her iPad guitar.

Head hurt but was off to breakfast with a special someone so showered away the bubbly and hit the road. Scone with jam and cream = perfect remedy, and ideal start to my happy birthday. Can eat more in summer since tummy no longer asphyxiated by skinny jeans, but can now breathe freely beneath flowing floral dress.

Up next, lunch at Manna Epicure. Proceeded to order lovely bottle of pink bubbles to match new coral dress and new pretty pink-gold Micheal Kors watch – which by the way was without a doubt the best present I got overall... and I bought it for myself!! Naturally...

Moving on... Now an egg on legs, decided to try work off at least one crouton from my XXXL Caesar salad, so went for stroll on the promenade, then dashed home to get ready for event number 3, and dragged my lethargic now-double-hungover self to Wakame for drinks with friends.

Exquisite evening, except when new dress blew up and exposed lacy knickers to a humoured audience on the Wafu deck. At least they matched the new wedges. 

Ended the evening with a dinner at Sotano with 19 girls. More pressies, more bubbly, more cake and more laughter meant a VERY Jolly Olive indeed last night as I passed out amidst a mass of wrapping paper, ribbons and flowers. Woke up with face stuck to birthday card... still smiling. Fabulous day. Thanks to all who made it so special. You know who you are.

"I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes..."

Christmas!!!!

"I don't want a lot for Christmas... There is just one thing I need... I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas treeeeee..." 

Er, actually I do. What's Christmas sans gifts? And frankly there isn't just one thing I need. There's two. I want a GHD. And a gold bracelet. Is that too much to ask?!?!?!?!?! Because I've been asking for the same two things since 2006 yet my desperate pleas have remained unnoticed. Or rather, just ignored. Ok given they don't come cheap but the amount of clothing I have been given since 2006 could probably buy me (a very crusty, very small, 19th-hand) private jet. So a GHD and a gold bracelet are certainly doable.

(Oh, and yes, I did watch Love Actually on the weekend.) 

I can really feel it! I can really feel Christmas! Not so much as I do in London (especially since the Santa I grew up with is British, not Afrikaans, and he eats cookies, not biltong), but I really feel it in the streets, in the shopping centre, on the radio... Mumsy and I have already planned the date and time of our traditional mince pie-making session once I'm back in Joburg, and Step Daddy and I are already fighting over who's going to make the Brandy Butter this year; and there's already a family debate over who's coming to Carols by Candelight and which church service we're going to attend on Christmas morning. Christmas is the best and biggest day of the year in my family. And right up until Christmas Eve we are frantically running around like elves on E to ensure everything is story-book perfect. Which it always is. Bar the lack of snow in SA and the fact that we can't put a wreath on the front door without it being stolen. 

Was contemplating changing my ringtone to 'Rocking around the Christmas Tree', but decided it's about a month too early. And that I wouldn't mind still having friends by New Year's Eve or I'll be celebrating solo.

  

To keep in the spirit of things, Vivi&Lola and I are going to a 'Festive Cooking' course on Wednesday at the SA Chef's Academy!! Am so bloody ecstatic I asked Mum to send down my Christmas Tree earrings and Santa hat but realised it's perhaps a little too over-enthusiastic since the course will probaly primarily consist of a bunch of newlyweds, gay couples and the odd geriatric who really want to learn. We're just there to get pissed and be merry. Am ready to whip up a gourmet Festive Feast while slogging back free Christmas wines and whistling 'Frosty the Snowman'.

It is my birthday first. Maybe I should be focusing a little more on those celebrations!

Decided on weekend to finally clear up erupting skin mass breakout once and for all, so took out a loan and booked a Dermalogica facial – so pricey I was half expecting to be carried to the room on a red cushion and placed in a rose-petal bath while topless bronzed men worked on my face simultaneously performing hand and foot massages and feeding me Champagne through a 19-carot gold straw. This was not so... Five minutes in and my overly sensitive skin (raw from excessive use of prescription zit-eradicating gels) felt like it was had been scraped off by sandpaper then plunged into a pool of citric acid. I lay squealing in pain while flustered facialist tried desperately to clean off whatever she had put on. Everything hurt. Eventually she gave up and I emerged from said treatment room resembling a burn victim – swollen, red, blotchy and puffy, too sore to even smile. My tears stung. Everything stung. And I spent the day lying on a couch behind closed doors spraying my face with a 'soothing spray' at regular intervals, sipping bubbly through a straw. So much for that idea... 

Have finally accepted Dermo's request to put me on antibiotics. Maybe I'll go back to school for a few weeks too. At least I'll fit in.