Sunday, 25 January 2009

Gene Hunt And A Whore's Drawers

Greetings, my menopausal mates. Long time, no blog. Has anyone ever eaten coleslaw on toast? Well I just have. It’s not part of some weird new fangled diet, but more the fact that I bought it to go with Friday night’s pizza and had nothing else suitable to eat it with. Besides, I hate wasting food. In fact, I haven’t had pizza for ages, as it is not particularly diet friendly but, “a little of what you fancy”, as they say. In any case, I’m pleased to report that my weight is now down to 9st 2lbs. I’m afraid the Saatchi egg diet theory went a bit pear shaped over Christmas due to the usual seasonal excesses, as did the cayenne pepper and green tea. However, a good dose of diarrhoea, followed by flu soon restored the status quo (no air guitars please) and got rid of a couple of extraneous pounds into the bargain.

On the menopausal esteem boosting side, I recently secured a 3 month contract with the NHS which necessitates a 20 minute walk to and from my car each day, plus some great aerobic exercise trugging up several flights of stairs to the 3rd floor office (NHS lifts are notoriously lazy.) Needless to say, I am half dead by the time I get there, but feel quite virtuous nonetheless and the advantages are obvious. I am now able to get back into some of the Size 12 trousers which I was forced to abandon when I was a stone heavier. The downside is that the three new pairs of Size 14 M&S trousers I bought some months back are in danger of becoming victims of my first car boot sale of the year.

On the menopausal esteem squashing side, my face has more lines than the London underground and appears to be dropping faster than a whore’s drawers. I cannot underestimate how demoralising it is to see the proof of such a rapid decline each time I pass a mirror. After much consideration, I therefore decided to reconsider the prospect of a little non-surgical assistance to rectify the situation and, to this end, arranged for an initial consultation with a Consultant of Facial Aesthetics. The prognosis was depressing, both aesthetically and financially, as it was deemed that I would need not only Botox to relax the offending muscles, but also fillers to plump out the deeply entrenched crevasses. The total cost of a year’s “ironing” would amount to the price one would normally pay for 2 weeks’ holiday in the sun, so the jury is still out on that one.

Still, look on the bright side - there’s always Philip Glenister to get the old hormones rushing around again (what’s left of them.) Now that the gorgeous Gene Hunt has temporarily disappeared from our screens, I have turned my attention to a weekly fix of “Demons.” “A little of what you fancy…” Aaaaahhh…….., the pockmarked perfection of the guy!

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