Lesson Seventeen: It Pays To Ask Your Man What He Wants For Christmas.

I’m fond of shopping for presents around birthday and Christmas time. The element of surprise is what keeps it challenging to me, plus I believe I’ve got a great eye for gifts. However, for the first time ever, it’s been difficult to shop for someone. The Boyfriend. Three reasons why.

1. He is very, very, VERY particular about EVERYTHING.
2. He LOVES to shop. Seriously the man can browse from store-to-store for hours. Not something I’m a fan of – but it had to be done so I could earmark certain things he tried on or really showed an interest in.
3. He doesn’t settle for the first thing he finds, he often compares prices with other stores and what’s available on-line.

So I suggested he make a list of five things he would like – that way I’d get him two or three of those things, the element of surprise would remain, plus he’d get what he wanted.

His list read like this: -

1. Water blaster
2. Running Shoes
3. Tracksuit pants
4. Dress shoes or dress shirts
5. New wallet.

Firstly, there was no way I was buying a man I’ve been seeing for six months a friggen water blaster. It’s not romantic; it’s far too expensive and way too practical. In other words, perfect for a guy.  Secondly – he doesn’t run so the shoes were an absolute no-go. As for the tracksuit pants – unless he’s thinking of whipping them off, a-la-Chippendale style – that wasn’t happening. I mean tracksuit pants.... Really?  

Thank god I asked him to do the list because apart from the wallet, I would never have guessed that he wanted or needed any of those things.

The list I had for him went: -

1. Aftershave
2. G-string
3. New tattoo
4. Paying for his gym membership for the next six months
5. Wallet

So he got a new leather wallet, a very stylish dress shirt, and a Bribiesca ring (see above photo). Yes I know the latter didn’t appear on either list, however the ring is much like it’s new owner; stylish, one-of-a-kind, very hard to find but always makes the right impact. However, between you and I, the impact is currently with the bedside table so perhaps next year I’ll learn to stick to the damn list. 

Lesson Fifteen: Pain Definitely Means More Gain (seriously!)

Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get into shape. From my first aerobics class wearing my bright pink leotard, with knee length tights and high top sneakers in the late 80’s, to step aerobics in the 90’s, running, swimming and boxing. I’ve joined no less than TEN gyms over the years, which bled hundreds of dollars in weekly fees from me – but this time I wanted a challenging, hard-core workout.

So, one day I googled “kickboxing”, Jai Kickboxing came up and I went along for an introductory class. The room was split in two and on the other side were the “fit ones” and out of the corner of my eye I watched them do some pretty serious punching, kicking, sit ups and push ups without a break.  I wanted to be on the other side of the room, not with the unfit, “newbies”. However, it was going to be a hard road because after one session I couldn’t move the next day. Seriously, it was absolutely pathetic.

The next day I dragged my saggy, stubborn ass back and I’ve been going four or five times a week since. That was in April. 

Now you can meet the two men who punish and punish me to breaking point every time I see them – and always with a smile, some advice on technique and witty banter.  They are Chelsea (Sarayut Sajjasuwan) and Wimbledon (Chay Yai).  At first they didn’t know my name, so very politely referred to me as “beautiful girl”. Not because they consider me beautiful, they call every girl that until they know your name.

One day I go, “It’s Tarsh”

Wimbledon: “Oh – okay. Trash…..how are you?”.

Me: “No, no it’s TARSH.”

Wimbledon: “Oh okay……Thrush….how are you?”

So I was ‘Thrush’ for a while because I didn’t want to be anal and keep correcting them, plus I suspect they were having a laugh at my expense. Now they know it’s “Tarsh” and yell it out often during class.

Chelsea: “Tarrrsh….how are you?”

Me: Panting. “I’ve just done 30 full press ups, how do you think? I want to kill you!”

Chelsea: Laughing, “TEN MORE press ups – Tarsh, you count”.

I have no idea how I survive those classes. They are so hard-core that I sweat profusely but I grit my teeth and smash those pads and bags as they yell, “More POWER” at me. Wimbledon and Chelsea know exactly how hard to push me, they know my limit and they know I have it in me to keep raising it. They have shown me I have the most incredible amount of willpower to keep going as well as some pretty good physical strength. As a woman to be shown your inner strength is a very powerful thing so I thank them both for showing me. There will be more days where they push me to almost vomiting point, but I still made it to the other side of the room with the “fit ones”. 

Lesson Fifteen: The Way You See It In Your Head And The Way It Actually Plays Out Are Always Different.

I had my 40^th birthday on December 6^th and after celebrating with a few friends the previous weekend, The Boyfriend had planned a fun/romantic dinner with just the two of us for the actual day. My taste in most things is hard to pick so needless to say he was slightly nervous about the gift.  I brought a new black dress, paired it with some killer heels and threw a little faux fur jacket over the top. (ie: - “killer” heels because they’re very high and kill my feet.) The Boyfriend arrived, we popped some pricey French bubbly that I broke the budget for and unveiled the present, a really unusual chunky silver ring. He nailed it.  

We headed to dinner and I took the rest of the champagne and swigged it straight from the bottle as he drove – that move right there is probably the reason the rest of the night went the way it did.  

We get to this fantastic Italian restaurant and ordered. He had outdone himself, the food was absolutely brilliant as was the wine and I was feeling pretty relaxed with a good booze-buzz on.

After dinner I was feeling a little frisky so on the drive back I suggested we pull over for a bit of a pash – after all, it was my birthday and that’s what I wanted to do. Even at age 40 with a perfectly comfortable bed to go home too – I’m acting like a teenage fumbling awkwardly in the car.  Plus I’d seen this play out hundreds of times in my head and knew after six months together we would have this down pat. We pull in by the beach, and no sooner had The Boyfriend pulled the handbrake, I go to cock my high-heeled leg over to sit astride him in the drivers seat. My smooth move may have gone flawlessly if it hadn’t been for the rich Italian food and wine because as lift I my left leg to flick over him, I let out the biggest, longest fart I’ve ever let go in my life. Mortified I still tried to go through with the “romance” by continuing to try and get my leg over him, however he was cracking up at the same time I was crushing his hand that was sitting on the gear stick.

At this point I resigned to the fact that a) there would be no romance; b) this would be a memorable birthday but not for the reasons I had hoped and planned for and c) we had to open the window.

So I sat back down, all romance obliterated while he rubbed feeling back into his crushed hand and we drove home. Fortunately he has a great sense of humor and had just added this this to his ever-growing list of 'Embarrassing Tarsh Moments'. (Thank god he doesn't have a blog.)

Lesson Fourteen: Try To Let A Guy Down Gently.

Walter Elwin. Blue eyes, brown hair and the first guy to tell me he loved me aged 15.

We were at Papakura High School together and I first laid eyes on him during fourth form Geography class with Mr McCrofskery. Walter was seating a few rows behind me being a pain and blowing spitballs at me through the barrel of a broken felt-tip.  I turned around and loudly told him to knock it off and then just to get him in trouble, suggested he go back to reading the Penthouse Magazine he was hiding under the desk.

I had NO idea that Walter had a crush on me at all. I mean our conversations went,

Walter: “Hey Natasha” (I’ve always hated being called my full name!)

Me: “WHAT?”

Walter: “You look pretty today.”

Me: “Shut up egg.”

One night at our house in Redhill I asked a few friends over – only because Dad was at the RSA, Dad never like people at home when he wasn’t there – especially hormonal boys.  We had about four Rheinecks between ten of us and there were cars all over the lawn. The stereo was blasting in the lounge and I was in my bedroom with some of my girl friends – probably looking in the mirror when Walter came in.

Walter: “Natasha, I need to tell you something.”

Tarsh: “Now? Can’t it wait?"

Walter: “NO – I want to tell you now, listen to me!!”

By this time I had my back against my wardrobe door and he was right in front of me.

Tarsh: “Okay, go on then if you have too.”

Walter: Trying to whisper something in my left ear, “Natasha I think I love you.”

Me: “What?  I can’t hear you."

Walter: Leaning closer to my ear and actually yelling just as the music went quiet, “Natasha, I LOVE YOU!"

Silence.

Deafening silence because not only did he temporarily deafen me, but also he’d yelled it so loud everyone in the lounge heard as they were changing the LP on the stereo.

So, I did what I do best. I made it worse.

Me: “Awwww….no you don’t Walter!” and I punched him in the shoulder and walked down the hall into the lounge where everyone had cracked up. 

Walter burst into tears, got into his red Anglia and drove home. I did end up going around with him – not because I felt the same way, but because he used to pick me up for school in that red Anglia and I didn’t have to bike. We lasted two and a half weeks. Walter emailed me a few years ago when I was working the night show at MORE FM and sent a photo saying he was married and still in Papakura. I replied with some niceties and wished him all the best with no further communication. Not the most romantic ending, but better than a punch in the shoulder. 

Lesson Thirteen: Learn How To Take A Compliment - John Aiken.

How do you take a compliment? I find it’s one of the most difficult things in the world to take – along with a pregnancy test and a shot of chartreuse.

I’ve never been very good at taking personal compliments because of my own self-doubt in my appearance and because I never really know what to say without feeling like a dick.

Giver: “Hey Tarsh – you look great, that colour really suits you”.

Old me: “Oh – not really. I mean I was going to wear black but my favourite top’s in the wash and this was the only thing that went with these jeans. In fact if anything I think the jeans make me look fat plus I’ve got this massive zit on my face….”. And on it goes. If I’d paid more attention I would’ve noticed the attention of the 'giver' quickly decline as they wish they’d never spoken to me in the first place.

When it comes to getting compliments about work, I’m very appreciative because I work hard and I truly believe in my abilities and dedication.

Then I met psychologist John Aiken who I went to see on the advice of my boss to try and feel better about myself. As usual with me, even the first meeting wasn’t normal.

John: “Hello Tarsh – please, have a seat”.

Me: “Okay – I’m not sitting on the couch though, I’ll take the armchair”.

John: “Sure thing, wherever you feel most comfortable”.

Silence as I sit down and look straight at him, walls up, defiant as.

John: “Well this is interesting, I’ve never sat here before”.

Tarsh: “What do you mean?”

John: “Well normally my guests sit here on the couch and I sit there on the chair, but this is new and it’s okay”.
(Who does that? Who sits in the psychologists chair?? Ironically John and I later worked together on the MORE FM Nightshow.)

John is exemplary in his field – so realistic, so patient and very interactive.

John taught me: By not accepting a compliment you’re either: - a) milking the person for more comments thus feeding your own over-inflated ego or b) trying to get them to sympathise and feel as bad for you as you do for yourself.  John’s big lesson to me, “accepting a compliment says a lot about how you’re feeling about yourself”.

This was at least eight years ago that we had that talk and to this day and it is still REALLY difficult for me to say two words whenever given positive feedback on my appearance, “Thank you”.  I’m a big compliment giver – I’ve been known to tell a lady in the Supermarket how great she looks and go back to a lady in a café to tell her that her butt looked great in her jeans.

The old adage is true about compliments the easier they are to accept; the easier they are to give. (BTW: Thank you for taking the time to read my little blog.)

Lesson Twelve: Sometimes You're Better Off Kissing Your Pillow.

I was pretty green when it came to boys and kissing, the only experience I’d ever had of kissing was with the back of my hand and my pillow, until I met Michael Moon.

It was the May School Holidays; I was 12 and staying with my grandparents in Whangamata along with my 11-year-old cousin Vilina. Despite our one-year age gap, Vilina was a lot more experienced with boys (that’s what happens when you grow up in Tokoroa) a lot more confident and boisterous.

One day at the Estuary we met these two boys – Michael Moon and his cousin Mark who were staying with their Grandfather close by. They were about a year older than us and my cousin liked Mark instantly so I was left with Michael.  Mark was tall, blonde, blue-eyed; Michael was a shorter, chubbier, less cute version.

They invited us back to the Estuary later that night so we went under the pretence to Nana Tolson that we were going for a walk with some friends and off we went to meet them. Sure enough they were there and together we sat in a circle on a sand dune and started playing Dare, Truth or Promise.

Somehow (and what a coincidence) “dare” was selected and Vilina was dared to kiss Mark. Then it was my turn and Michael Moon was dared to kiss me. It was a peck on the mouth, which left me relieved and disappointed at the same time. Then Vilina disappeared with Mark a few metres from us and Michael asked if he could kiss me again. By this time it was dark and I was imagining I was kissing Rob Lowe as Michael’s face got closer and lips met mine.  I was excited and nervous at the same time hoping he would know what he was doing when I felt his tongue zapping all over my lips. It forced it’s way in there and all of a sudden my mouth and my chin were drenched in his saliva.  To this day I’m not sure where the hell it came from because once his tongue got in there it just sat there, all limp and somehow the saliva bomb went off.

Miss Green here thought it must be normal so we kept “pashing” even though both sleaves of my jersey were pretty damp from me having to constantly wipe my mouth dry.

Michael: “That was great Natasha – you’re a really good kisser”.

Me: “A-ha…” wiping my mouth dry again “….you too Michael”.  I never saw or kissed him again.

So that day, not only did I experience my first and worst kiss ever, I also learnt that sometimes you need to lie to avoid hurting a guy's feelings, and that I was better off practicing my kissing on my pillow. 

Lesson Eleven: Celebrate Being A Strong Woman - Colin Mathura-Jeffree.

I am from a lineage of strong independent women. Both my Grandmothers were strong, my own Mother and all three sisters, Michelle, Krystle and Dana. Also my many good friends who personify strong women; Teresa Patterson, Summer Wharekawa; Mereana Hawthorne and Angela Ashworth to name just a few.

I'm a very strong woman, however in the past few years I've tried to become more "lady-like"because I have often been told I'm too "hard-looking" and serious as a result.  Plus I do kick-boxing which does nothing to soften the image. 

When it comes to dating men, strong women don’t feature high on a lot of men’s lists. We’re considered too high maintenance, stroppy, bossy and ‘hard to read’.  I think some men are just too afraid that a strong woman isn’t going to take their shit or accept second best. However, not all men think that way.

Colin Mathura-Jeffree. I met Colin last year when we MC’d a Child Cancer fundraising event. He is stunning – both visually and internally and I liked him instantly. Colin attracts attention not just because he’s on television and in magazines, it’s because he’s so goddamn gorgeous and has great mana about him.

Colin makes you feel fabulous and sexy just being around him. I’m naturally shy person but even more so when I have to perform with and in front of someone I enjoy watching on TV.  I was feeling self-conscious about what I was wearing, how fat my arse looked from behind, how my hair was and as a result of the anxiety, I started sweating a lot.  I sucked it up, pushed it aside and thankfully my strong will took over and we sat down to chat over a coffee before starting the gig. The conversation was easy and I discovered pretty quickly that I had nothing to worry about because before too long we were talking about his love life and my inability to have one, plus my slight concern about being "too hard". 

Colin celebrates strong women. He likes woman who control their own lives, who don’t allow themselves to be walked all over and who, “Don’t dumb themselves down for a guy". Amen to that. If we could all have a Colin in our lives to push us through and make us appreciate who we are, what we look like and help us feel fabulous, we'd all be so much better off. 

So for all the Teresa’s, Angela’s, Summer’s and Mereana’s who are strong woman that I admire, who I call friends and who I hold in the highest regard – I celebrate you. And to Colin Mathura-Jeffree in all your fabulousness, thank you and all our other men who celebrate the strength of a woman.