Can someone point me in the direction of a woman who manages to put herself first?

I know that old analogy of “put the oxygen mask on yourself first otherwise you won’t be in any fit state to help the children anyway” yet anything in relation to myself ends up at the bottom of the to do list, and I’m fairly confident I’m not the only one in this situation.

Is it a female thing? Once you have kids you go into a self-sacrificing, martyrdom approach to life? Or do dad’s (particularly those who opt for the stay-at-home duties) end up in the same situation?

This week I managed to get myself to the doctor. Which let me tell you in a retirement community is no small feat. Seriously, the elderly manage to procure the majority of doctor’s appointments in lengthy consultations leaving little room for those without life threatening illness. Mothers of young children in our area quickly learn not to be too overprotective, after several fruitless attempts to get into the doctor’s they either start to schedule appointments in advance (in anticipation of junior getting an illness in two months time) or they learn to shrug their shoulders and figure the kid will recover from the latest kindy bug without medical intervention anyway.

I managed to sneak into a cancellation, without explaining that my list of aches and pains was fairly lengthy and may prove to be time-consuming, get your foot in the door, your bum on the chair and they can’t actually kick you out, even if you do go WAYYYY over your alloted 15 minutes. If the pensioners can ignore the clock so can I. Considering I only get to the doctor twice a year I deserve as much time as I can acquire.

I left with my pile of referrals and tests and a lecture from the doctor about “coming back for follow-ups until we get this sorted”, a reference to my tendency to neglect to return once the tests prove there is nothing actually fatal going on.

It was a big week in the me department because I also managed to get a hair cut. My hairdresser joked how he is never going to make a fortune out of my business. Basically until my hair is blinding me in a spectacular display of flat, shapeless, droop I can’t manage to find the time to do the whole wash, cut, blowdry chit-chat. Unable to recall the original style he had given me some three months ago the hairdresser began an archeological dig to try to uncover some remnants of shape to recreate. Personally, I think he finds it immensely rewarding to cut my hair, given the state I come in, after snipping, thinning, clipping he stands back and glows with pride “now that’s better” he crows. Whatever he does is always going to be an improvement. It’s got to be more fulfilling than working on those women who make it in every six weeks for their trim and colour – they don’t even look any different once he finishes!

There’s still the beautician to go. Summer is approaching and well, I obviously can’t keep wearing thick black stockings or jeans to the beach, at some point I have to succumb to the hot wax treatment. The eyebrows need doing too. While the feet … well let’s not go there … does anyone have good-looking feet? Will a pedicure and a dab of nail polish on the toenails help distract from the unshapely toes?

How good are you at keeping up with health and beauty? Do you manage to put yourself first on a regular basis?