Klingons and Bee Gees

Two weeks ago, I took the plunge and had a little Botox work done on my forehead. I am pleased to say that the results were better than the first time around when I ended up looking like a “before” and “before” photo. Whilst the improvement is subtle and I have no Spocky eyebrow, it is a precursor to the fillers which I am having tonight. The Botox made my eyes water, as it is like being stung by a dozen very angry bees, but it was bearable. However, for the fillers, I have to administer a topical anaesthetic 45 minutes before treatment and cover the area with cling film to improve the efficacy. It somewhat reminds me of Dave in The Full Monty when he sits in the garden shed, covered in cling film and eating chocolate bars. I hope the neighbours don’t spot me coming out of the house with my cling film bandana and, hopefully, I shall only resemble a Klingon before the treatment and not afterwards. Obviously, I will keep you posted on progress.

The night sweats and hot flushes are beginning to escalate and I’m getting pretty fed up with them now, but I still shy away from the dreaded HRT. Instead, I shall make a foray to the health shop to see what weird and wonderful potions they can suggest. Luckily, I don’t have the mood swings that a friend of mine is currently enduring, whereby she feels like kicking everyone and everything in sight and even berated a sausage roll the other day for daring to break up and make a mess on her newly hoovered carpet. I mean, how bad is that?

TRAGEDY!!! (sung in a Bee Gees Falsetto voice.) The weight is still refusing to budge from 9st 2lbs, despite making sure I went to the loo and cut my toenails before climbing on the scales, so I seem to have hit a bit of a plateau. I have to confess that I did scoff two pieces of birthday gateau that someone at work very kindly brought in yesterday as it would be rude not to, together with a couple of digestive biscuits that I had bought as a treat for the rabbit. From the accusatory glare he gave me, I think he must have heard the rustle of the packet. Who said rabbits were thick? The period chart still remains wonderfully scant and I am now into my fourth consecutive month sans bodily functions, so I’ve only got another eight to go before I earn my badge of honour as a fully paid up member of the Menopause Club – Hurrah!

P.S. The photo is of Klingons, not Bee Gees!

Davros And Cassandra

I’ve decided to do it! I’ve decided to take the plunge and go for the Botox and fillers. After all, you can’t take it with you when you go, as they say. I’m cautiously optimistic about my imminent regeneration from Davros into Lady Cassandra. Moisturise! Moisturise! It’s wonderful what they can do with a sonic screwdriver these days. The thing is, you don’t have to look menopausal just because you are menopausal. Call me superficial if you like, but how you look has a direct effect on your self esteem and wellbeing. The bottom line is that if you look like crap, you feel like crap. End of story.

Speaking of bottom lines, I am fervently hoping that the six flights of stairs I climb each day at work will improve my own bottom line. It’s the original form of step aerobics which should help old Gluteus Maximus (that famous Roman emperor.) If that fails, then I may have to resort to buying a bum bra to lift my cheeks off the back of my legs. Whatever happened to that pert little bottom I had in my 20’s? It sodded off down South, that’s what.

One piece of menopause defying information I’d like to share with you is Co-Enzyme Q10. For several years, I’ve been having chronic gum problems. The situation has sometimes been so bad that it’s been difficult to eat. However, after reading an article on the internet which stated that cholesterol lowering medications called statins can interfere with the body’s own production of Co-Enzyme Q-10, causing chronic gum problems, being on statins myself, I decided to purchase a month’s supply to test the theory. The good news is that they’ve worked like a dream. I’m not saying that all my gum problems are solved, but from the first day I “popped the pill”, I have seen a miraculous improvement. Even my dentist is surprised at the change. Hopefully, I will manage to avoid Nobby Styles syndrome for a bit longer.

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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!