The Raddest Love.

Love is a strange animal indeed. I am utterly, hopelessly, unconditionally in love. And it's a love I can feel physically - like a magnetic charge in my chest. This love is unfaltering, even when the recipient says things like, "I think your legs look a bit ugly in that dress." Or, "Your bum wobbles when you brush your teeth." Or even, "Your face doesn't look pretty when you cry".

I am wholly in love with The Daughter. Every little thing about her. But, it must be noted, that this love amazes me. I'm stunned, sometimes overwhelmed, by the strength of it. Take today, for example. The Daughter has made me look like an absolute dick. Total knob jockey. A bone fide wankstick. Ass wipe. Cocksucker. Doos.

And I feel nothing but absolute love for her.

She wants to be just like me (talk about a compliment because she's already all kinds of super radness in her own right). If I wear skinny jeans, she wears skinny jeans. If I wear a brooch, she nicks it before getting out the car for school. She wears pashminas as scarves in winter. She's desperate to have the matrix straightening thingy done to her gorgeous locks. She mimics my speech when playing with her dolls. She examines used wax strips and exclaims, with delight, "Gooooooood one!" She's mastered my totally rhythm-less Beyonce booty-shake. She adores Regina Spektor. And The Beautiful South.

And because I spend hours blogging on my BlackBerry, so must she. Except she doesn't quite know how to type. Rather she has become an expert at the random phonecall. On Sunday, she phoned her grandfather 11 times in 7 minutes. She has phoned my boss. An ex-friend. A friend in London (more than once). She's replied to bbms with "jhjhdedssdfnudfsdfns". She's even phoned Mozzie Cabs.

But this morning was her finest: she phoned Larry 8 times. Before 7 am. The man has 8 missed calls from me. Oh God. Oh crikey. What a toss I feel.

How do you come back from that? "I'm terribly sorry but it was The Daughter and not me"? Yeah right. Yup, sure it was The Daughter. Uh-huh, that's totally plausible. One. Hundred. Cement.

I tried the explanatory email which was met by a silence that screams, "Whatever major loser".

And so, in an attempt to make myself feel better, I did the only thing I know: I shopped. And I've got to tell you, spending money sure does take a girl from loser to luscious in no time at all.

The people who make Benefit certainly do know how to transform a girl. That Confessions of a Concealeaholic has got to be the most amazing product out there. When the seller lady finished demonstrating its wonder, The Daughter squealed, "Oh Mom! You look stunning!". (I'll be taking one of those, thank you.)

And that Some-Kind-A-Gorgeous. All over my face. Seriously. How can one product make you feel so much of kiff?

(Go to one of those selected Woolies, and buy yourself some. Immediately.)

And then I hit La Senza. Underwear so beautiful I am considering taking the rest of the week off so I can laze around all day in it, drinking champagne and eating cupcakes. It's so effing hot that I don't even want to get naked ever again!

And then a dress. And when I slipped the cream vintage linen and lace over my head and The Daughter cried, "Oh Mom! You're the prettiest mommy in the whole wide world," I realised that I am a bit of alright, actually.

If the coolest, grooviest chick in the world thinks I'm rad, who gives a fu*k about anyone else?