In which I am distracted.

I settled down this evening with every intention of filling you in on this past week, including, as it did, First Born's 12th birthday bonanza. Unfortunately, Husband and I had the TV on and I was distracted by the latest advert to attract my scorn. So the proper bloggy update and celebration of the fact that we have managed to raise a human being to age 12 without killing or seriously maiming it will have to wait.

The advert that has me quivering with indignation is that one for Perle du Lait yogurt. Do you know the one I mean? The one where the plain, dowdy woman with no make-up and a couple of stainless steel clips stuck randomly in her hair grimaces her way through a pot of SOUR YOGURT OH THE HUMANITY! Her life is clearly devoid of joy and meaning.

Then she discovers Perle du Lait, a nice yogurt that is specially manufactured to be .........not sour, and she smiles her way through a pot. And lo! She is happy and content and all is right with her world through the miracle of coconut flavoured yogurt (incidentally: eugh. Yogurt should not be coconut flavoured. Ever). Or could it be because meantime someone has sneakily done her hair and make-up for her and improved the lighting and turned up the colour saturation? Do advertisers really think we are that dim? That we don't notice this stuff? Whatever they paid their advertising company, it was way too much.

Unless of course, eating this particular yogurt will indeed miraculously turn my hair into something worthy of the description "style" and apply make-up in the subtle and skillful way I have failed to learn over the last thirty-odd years. But I doubt it. I learned that lesson the hard way when I dutifully scoffed bowl after bowl of Ready Brek as a child and entirely failed to emit a warm orange glow on the way to school.

And frankly, if eating coconut flavoured yogurt is the price I would have to pay for perfect hair and make-up, then dishevelled and frumpy I shall remain.