What has not changed, however, is the amount of cocktails parties I either have to attend or organise. Who said moving and grooving in high places was fun. Oh yes I may have a wardrobe full of JIMMY CHOOS and MANILO BLANIKS but let’s face it, you can hardly wear a pair of UGGS with a cocktail dress now can you?
Similarly if I receive another slap on my backside and a knowing look when I am considering a second piece of cheese and a Bath biscuit I may just take the cheese knife and stab it somewhere soft and squidgy.
Yes I often consider why it seems perfectly acceptable for the male species to put on more than a few pounds, more especially around their girth and get away with it but the species of which I belong to has to smile and breathe and diet and exercise. When did that become fair?
I was given a small wad of cash the other day and with another one of those very patronising slaps on my bum told to go off and get something nice for tonight. My emotions flickered between wanting to go and buy a frothy dress and realising how a prostitute might feel being paid for services yet to be rendered. I wonder if they ever sigh at the thought of more than less than average sex. I know I do.
Oh yes I realise I am seen as an ungrateful wretch who should be pleased that I have such a sparkling social life and live a pampered life but come on, let’s be fair, there are only so many times you can praise the hostess over her canapés of which have been bought in, or count how many times she has worn the same dress this season. I think it’s time to be radical!
I stand at the top of the staircase, about to make my entrance. I am late, but not fashionably so. The majority of the guests are there. I take a deep breath. Close my eyes and wait. It all goes quiet. It’s exactly the sort of effect I had hoped my new outfit would conjure up. My husband stares up at me. His mouth drops open just for a second in a rather unattractive way. You are probably wondering if he is struck dumb by my sheer beauty! The silence is palatable and the effect is somewhat heady. Even intoxicating, one might say. Yes this new outfit has caused quite a stir.
I start down the staircase, slowly, as I don’t want this moment to end. I grab the rail. It wouldn’t do to slip and fall now. So just what am I wearing? Well, thank you for asking….
Oh it’s nothing special, but it’s not what I was wearing when my Beloved first clapped eyes on me. I reach the bottom of the stairs and as I walk across the room acknowledging the people there, I notice how heavy my headdress of feathers is. I had never noticed the weight of it before. My husband, in his haste to stop me in my tracks and usher me into the kitchen has stepped on my train and pulled it away from the rest of my costume. I now seem to be walking around with a headdress on and a gold lame swimsuit. I throw a few high kicks in just to completely baffle everyone. I even surprise myself how high I managed to get my legs up. I dare say the Old Man didn’t know I was still that flexible…
I don’t care. I keep on walking to the whisper in my ear of “ For God’s sake sweetie what are you doing ?”
I turn. I smile and say, “Sorry darling, I thought it was my duty to perform for you and the next performance has just started. Do take a seat.”
I shout over to the silly bloke playing some Muzak which is enough to make some background noise but does little for atmosphere.
“Hey. Have you got Shirley Bassey? . Big spender?”
And with that I kick my leg high in the air and “can can” towards the Waitress who, bless her, seems to be encouraging me with her eyes.
“Another drink anyone and let’s get this party started”