It would appear that I am now entering the phase that all women look forward to with dread – the menopause. I seem to have started having, what can only be described as, beginner’s hot flushes. I go hot and my face feels red but it doesn’t last very long. What’s the chance that’s as bad as it’s going to get? Fat chance.
I ordered two fans from the internet to be ready – I’m a woman who likes to be organised. I ordered a Spanish hand-held one and a battery operated one. You can never have too many fans.
Told husband that when we’re at friends’ houses if I feel a hot flush coming on, to avoid feeling embarrassed, I’ll simply remove myself to the bathroom with my fan – until it passes.
He raised an eyebrow and replied that I’d feel more than embarrassed if I went to the bathroom, and the only sound that could be heard through the door was that of a battery operated gadget.
He’s got a point…
Decided it was time I had some drawn on eyebrows. Stood balefully gazing at pencils wondering if I was a light brown, warm brown, medium brown, dark brown, mid-brown, chestnut, hazel, tawny or chocolate. Bleedin’ Nora!
My hair is medium brown (out of a bottle) but my eyebrows are dark brown shot through with grey – this does not make me look distinguished; it makes me look like an aged badger. Eventually an assistant came over and advised me. I left with a warm brown pencil plus a special sharpener – but laughed at her suggestion of wax to keep said eyebrows in place. I walked away shaking my head and smiling at the youth of today. Did she think I couldn’t look after a pair of eyebrows?!
Got home and immediately filled in my scratty eyebrows. Looked like I was permanently frowning; maybe I’d drawn them too far into the middle – though obviously I’d stopped short of a mono-brow. Not sure if I looked permanently surprised, permanently cross or permanently bewildered. Sucked a cotton bud and tried to make them look less frightening.
Took new eyebrows to the pub. No-one said a word but did get a few quizzical looks. Got home, looked in mirror and realised I’d smudged one right across my forehead.
Obviously the assistant was right – I’m not ready to be out in public with sole responsibility for a pair of eyebrows!
My body seems to have made a rather distressing development.
If I bend over, while wearing tracksuit bottoms, my stomach flab flops over the top of my knickers and starts to roll them down.
This is very depressing in the house. It’s extremely alarming in the supermarket.
Clearly I need to stop wearing tracksuit bottoms…