I try and go to the gym — I mean, as a perimenopausal woman, I have to. What are the new requirements? Carry around the equivalent of your own dead carcass. This will ensure my bones don’t crumble, as they are slowly becoming chalk. I also have to eat protein day and night, snack on nuts and seeds. Maintain my muscle. Hold onto it.
My gym provides free Molton Brown cream — and I am a 20-pump girl. I like to remain hydrated, that’s another perimenapause drying out like a prune. I cover my body in a thick layer of white paste, for free. So that’s my process.
I also think it is relevant to tell you I have a bush baby. Pubic hair — an ’80s porn bush baby. It has its own style: it likes just the one ringlet. When I see it in the mirror, I occasionally curl it around my finger. I also sing to it, the classic nursery rhyme: “There Was a Little Girl” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. If you don’t know it, this is how it goes:
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead (nunu).
And when she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
Anyway, I digress. I went for a swim and after the shower, I went to get my 20 pumps — naked, with a towel on my shoulders. I started pumping the cream dispenser, and the nozzle went nuts, splattering cream everywhere. Looked around — no one else was about — so I continued my furious pumping. There was cream splatted everywhere. With my hand full of cream, I quickly grabbed my towel that was slipping with the other hand.
As I stood straight from rescuing my towel falling to the floor. I met the gaze of a woman who had just come into the ladies’ changing room. Her gaze went straight down to my bush baby and she looked horrified. I looked flustered.
She came into the same changing area. I stood with my back to her I was furiously rubbing cream into my body. i was like a furious magician trying to make the thick white paste disappear on my body. Whilst trying to maintain the towel on my shoulders. I did as good a job as I could and turned back round to face the lady.
She looked straight down to my bush baby again. I looked down to my bush baby. At the end of my curl was a big blob of cream hanging like a tear. Without even thinking, I caught it with my finger and started mindlessly rubbing it into the only place that was not already greased.
My face.
She looked horrified. I realised what all this looked like.
Maybe I’ll go for 18 pumps next time.
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