A happy busy time just now as my 12-year old granddaughter Tatiana prepares her rite of passage from girlhood to womanhood. The ceremony followed by the inevitable Big Bash has been the sole topic of conversation for the past six months.
In the Jewish religion, a barmitzvah is when a boy turns 13, comes of age and becomes a man. The girls have jumped the gun, got on the bandwagon and are having theirs a year early at the age of 12.
Crumbling under the weight of filial pressure, my daughter and son-in-law have been mugged into having the most expensive party they can afford. I disapprove totally but cannot voice it. It's tradition, they say, like Christmas. It's commercial, I reply. Like Christmas.
Having already been invited to many other such parties, Tatiana returns home each time with fresh and ever more costly ideas:
"They had a tattoo artist! A belly dancing teacher! Goodie bags containing Gucci keyrings! A herd of performing elephants for each child to take home!"
And so the buzz words are: caterers, marquee, red carpet, dance floor, balloons, canapés, food stations, sushi chefs, mirror balls, microphones, cocktails, bouncers, dresses, shoes, hats, tights, hair and make-up.
And thousands and thousands of pounds being blown away on people who won't appreciate it nor even remember it the following day.
She's 12 for God's sake! When I was 12 I probably had 3 schoolfriends over for a peanut butter sandwich and a bowl of jelly. And then maybe we played a game of Ludo.
Do I sound like a grumpy old woman? Possibly, but my poor daughter would rather have spent the money on a fabulous holiday that at least she too could have enjoyed.
Now don't get me wrong. I am looking forward to it. And I've bought myself a whole wardrobe full of new outfits. And I'm sure we'll all have a fantastic time. But all that money...it makes me want to weep.
I just hope Tatiana appreciates it. She has 2 younger sisters so we have to go through this whole thing again. Twice.
And then if we're lucky, there'll be 3 weddings hopefully before my funeral!
I refuse to be 'one of the grandmas' next weekend. I'm determined to get up to mischief of some sort. What do you reckon? One of the neighbour's sons? They're 26 and 28. And both cute. I'll keep you posted.
About Me
- Wendy Salisbury
- London, United Kingdom
- I was born in London to a Russian mother and Argentinian father. Educated at the French Lycee, I'd learned how to flirt in four languages by the time I was 15. I lived in Spain from age 18 to 20 documenting the life story of El Cordobes, the world-famous bullfighter, who helped himself to my virginity one hot and sultry Cordovan night... At 21, returned to the UK, I got married, had a darling daughter, then divorced; two years later, I married again, had another darling daughter, and divorced again. At 42 my life really kicked off with my first foray into the wonderful world of younger men documented in my nefarious adventures 'The Toyboy Diaries' Volumes 1 and 2 now translated into several languages. My first novel, 'Blood on the Sand' is out now in Spanish, and available in English on Amazon Kindle. My lifestyle guide 'NOW! The New Older Woman' awaits publication as does my 2nd novel 'Too Late to Go Home'. I am the very proud grandmother to 5 darling grandchildren.
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