"Mummy, what are you doing?" asked Little Charlotte as I plastered my face with make up at 6.30am. "Trying to look pretty", I replied. "Mummy, you're not pretty, you're a big girl". Oh, how I love her logic. Just because I have lines and wrinkles and wiry hair (trying to hide the grey), apparently means to a 2 and a half year old that I cannot be described as pretty. How true that is! In a world obsessed by looks, no wonder little Charlotte feels the way she does when she is barely out of nappies.
Ashleigh in our office says that at 45, you have so past your sell-by-date that you may as well be dead. Oh well, at least at work, where I spend the majority of my waking hours, I am surrounded by other pre-menopausal has-beens. Sue and I have both already experienced a does of the menopause. Me, when I had IVF (I am still recovering from the shock of injecting myself with old womens' pee) and Sue when she had treatment for breast cancer.
We are all hormonal mistresses usually with our cycles in-sync. What joy! An office full of raging oestrogen or whatever one it is at that time of the month!
Young Ashleigh is in her prime, Sarah has baby making plans and Sue, Jackie and I are forty something and waiting for the hot flushes.l Jackie, as the oldest is already getting a bit scatty, searching for her glasses on her head or her phone when it is in her hand. Oh, how we need some testosterone at Nelson House but the poor man would run a mile.
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