The Accidental Trad Wife

Doing things differently 

I tried starting the day in a different order. Bedrooms and lounge first, then bathroom and finally the kitchen. I didn’t like this order. Something feels off about cleaning the dry rooms before the wet ones. I’m unsure as to why, but hey, I tried something new. 

I never have breakfast. It’s not a diet choice, I’m just not hungry in the mornings. But I sat down at 10:00 and ate a piece of toast. There’s often nothing better than hot buttered toast, is there? I didn’t like this either though. So tomorrow, it will be back to my normal routine. 

From my goals for this week I decided to look into beauty treatments. I genuinely don’t know what has benefit, what’s a fad, and what is a waste of money. Do I want to be lasered, peeled or zapped? Should I start dermaplaning? I have two wrinkles, is now the time to inject them to keep me youthful into my 40s. 

I pondered on why I was even considering this. The beauty industry can have such a negative impact on people’s self esteem. I feel for women younger than me, who are so flooded with the Instagram perfection that is packaged as ‘normal’. Am I going against my feminist ideals by doing this? And who am I doing it for? I’d like to think it’s just for me, but I’m unsure. 

It’s not that I don’t look after my skin, I have a pretty thorough routine of cleansers, masks, creams and exfoliants. I’m just more comfortable doing this at home. I booked in a free skincare consultation at a salon for 12:30, I’ll see what they say and report back this afternoon.

I’m not in a rush 

I walked to our local town, and for once didn’t bring my headphones and shouty music. It’s actually not so much a town as a couple of streets of bars, artisan bakeries and old pharmacies and hardware shops. Our area is a mixture of yuppies and retired people, and somehow it does well in catering for both. I picked up my prescription, I didn’t mind that there was a queue.

I went to my beauty consultation. The beautician asked what I wanted to achieve, I just said “I’m now at the age where I feel I need to do something” although, honestly, I have no idea what that something is. She suggested I start going in for regular chemical peels. So that’s what I’ll be doing next Tuesday. I still don’t really know how to feel about this. But, I’m going to pay £70 for someone to burn off a few layers of skin. Maybe I’ll like it, I think I will, and that concerns me. 

Afterwards, I walked up to M&S to buy ingredients for tonight’s dinner. We’re having one of mine and my husband’s friend over. I didn’t rush picking things up, I didn’t rush at the self checkouts, and the only negative is that there seems to be a national shortage of Maldon salt. I’d bought too much to carry home, so took a three minute taxi ride. 

Today, I’m nailing this 

Back at home, I had lunch and a nap in front of another crime documentary. I only had one room left to clean, and four hours to make dinner. No rush, no stress. 

For dinner I made:

• Buttermilk fried chicken, well cream, not buttermilk, M&S were out of stock.
• Hasselback potatoes.
• Mac and cheese. With a touch of gruyere and mustard and a parmesan crumb. 
• Iceberg wedges with ranch, bacon and chives.
• Standard coleslaw. 
• Waffles. I love having a waffle maker for the two times a year I use it.
• BBQ beans. These are just for me, no one else likes them, and that’s lunch tomorrow sorted. 
• And of course, a lemon drizzle cake.

By the time I kissed my husband at the door, I just had the rubbish to take down, and a hallway to mop. Food was done, and I was sat on the couch with a prosecco. 

A pleasant evening 

Our friend came round. We ate dinner, chatted shit, and watched ‘Somebody Feed Phil’. I sent our friend away with the rest of the lemon drizzle, I think my husband secretly hates me for this. 

It’s been a good day. I think I’m finally nailing this, for today at least. I’m moving forward, that’s good, I’m happy. 

The Trad Wife round up:

% of the flat cleaned: 100
Pieces of chicken deep fried: 12
Leftovers: Just the BBQ beans
Acid on my face: Planned