(Frumpy Dumpster (Part 2 of 4) 'Love Lift Us Up') – After I came back from hospital the kids were little angels and Michael was feeling sorry for the burst of anger. Ah you couldn’t blame him. He was embarrassed after shitting himself on the floor and I was the nearest thing to him. Thank god it wasn’t Nadia or any of our kids. He did get his moods alright, but I still think that was one of those isolated incidents and sure there’s no-one to blame. He even let me watch him do his nude portraits as I couldn’t go for a run as me broken nose hurt too much. There was Nadia on the bed, joined by mum Sharon! Sharon kept fit in her thirties and you knew she knew she was still a good thing! Two of them there lying on the duvet, all smiles, naked as the day they were born. Michael studying them intensely in his dressing gown. He got it as a gift from his mother on the anniversary when I happened to be in the hospital getting me nose set straight. I got a dressing gown too. It was so sweet of her. There I was, in the bedroom, me and Michael in our matching dressing gowns. Michael’s positioning Nadia’s legs over Sharon’s to expose their bits so he could capture the best pose for his painting when doesn’t his dressing gown accidentally fall open and his hairy man dangler flops out for all to see! “Ah would ya look at that,” laughed Michael. I was in shock! Thankfully the girls seemed unfazed as it flapped straight out onto Sharon’s stomach. She, god bless the woman, took it in her hand and helped him put it back in his dressing gown. Sharon’s such a sweetheart. I think Michael was a little aroused by this. I could tell. Little Michael was always popping out from then on. And Sharon was always helping it back in. Sometimes even Nadia lent a hand. This was so great to see my hubby the artist, with his passion at work concentrating, and concentrating very hard too. Now, I didn’t want to step out of line, but I thought I could do just a good a job as Nadia or Sharon in a pose like that. I mean, lying on pillows with your legs open, how hard was it? You’d be away in a hack with that kinda job wouldn’t ya? So there I was, in the bedroom, not a stitch on under the dressing gown. I had to do it. I jumped up, whipped off the gown, dived on the bed and cocked my arse in the air. Paint me darling, paint me! I yelped, surprised at my own excitement. I think I even squirted! Michael though was in no mood for interruption. I got a spray of blue paint on me arse and he tells me to- “F**k off and make tea for the girls and be of some real use!” Ah, I thought, it was probably best left to them. They didn’t need my stretch-marked moon base destroying the view. But as I made tea in the kitchen I caught my reflection in the cracked glass cupboard. Broken nose. A flabby motherlode of t**s. Bruises. A “fat whore!” as Michael would’ve joked. Then the flashbacks came. The punches, the put downs…. I gripped the spoon. I had changed so much physically in the 17 years since St. Saville’s. Saggy jaw, pot belly and a massive arse… I was the original: Frumpy Dumpster!  Something had to change! Yes sir-ee! And it really did change. It started during my dad’s funeral. Michael was drinking heavily. He had already drunk his way through a gallon of Guinness and threw up on me dad’s open face in the casket. Everyone was horrified. “Ya f****n’ idiot”. “He should be the one in that coffin…”. “F**k me. That better! Ah howaya Father… Lovely weather.” “It is Michael, it is.” That was the end. I had absorbed it for long enough. So I decided to go back to school! Yes! I tell ya now, I was dead chuffed. There were adult classes on in St. Saville’s and I know I said I’d never set foot in the place again but this was different. Sharon said I should have divorced the Old Bruiser but sure Michael wo