“So how’s it going with another female living in the house?” queried my mother when she was up on a visit last week.
Mum was referring to Meggles, Hagar’s twenty year old girlfriend who moved in with us a couple of months ago.
“She’s gorgeous!” I gushed. And it’s true. I love having another girl in the house after being outnumbered by five males to two girls for so long.
Meggles does her own washing, cooking, cleans up after herself and more importantly, keeps that rascally Hagar in check.
There is one teensy, weensy little thing though. She’s a bit… health conscious.
“Pinky! You’re a complete idiot!” I hear you jeering. “What’s wrong with being health conscious?”
Well… there’s nothing wrong with it at all except it brings into sharp focus just how UNHEALTHY Pinky is.
Our fridge crisper has never been so chocka-bloc full of fresh fruit and vegies , the pantry is stocked with peculiar organic foodstuffs such as Rice Malt Syrup, Cashew spread, Coconut Oil, Rolled Oats, seeds of every description, rice bran and other nutritious items previously alien to the dingy shelves in my kitchen.
I staggered into the kitchen one morning in search of my 43 beans fix to find Meggles sipping on a green tea. “Look!” she said with her dazzlingly white smile, “I made these pancakes out of a banana and an egg!”
Most days I run into Meggles in the hallway on her way to the gym or off to climb Castle Hill.
What is Pinky doing when wholesome, fit and toned Meggles waves a cheery goodbye as she bounces out the door?
Usually sitting on the couch like a slobby bogan watching the telly with a glass of wine in front of her that’s what.
Hagar and Meggle’s bedroom door is straight opposite the lounge room so the sight of we two layabout boozehounds is an unavoidable and confronting sight when they walk in the door.
The other day, feeling ashamed of my hedonistic ways, I sneakily placed my wine glass in the drawer of the coffee table when I heard Meggle’s car pull up.
“What are you doing?” demanded Scotto in disbelief.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m hiding my drink from Meggles.”
“Don’t be stupid! It’s your house, Pinky.”
“I don’t care,” I whimpered, “I don’t want Meggles to think I’m a lush.”
Anyway… Scotto dobbed on me to Meggles the other night so there’s no point pretending any more.
She doesn’t give two hoots apparently and besides, Meggles is probably still recovering from the fact that I asked if I could use her and Hagar’s photos to try out the app where you can put two individual’s photos together to see how their babies would look.I just wanted to know how beautiful my future grandchildren will be.
