I called this blog ‘But I’m beautiful’ after a line in Muriel’s Wedding where her stupid tart of a fake friend stands on the pavement while Muriel and her real best mate drive off into the sunset. This stupid blonde shouts out after them indignantly ‘But I’m beautiful!’. Ie you can’t leave me and choose her, I’m gorgeous! I was trying to be ironic. I’m not beautiful.
Any way now I think I should call this blog ‘But I’m not so beautiful as I was!’ and make it a blog about getting older. Which is something nobody knows anything about before they’re about 35, because they can’t imagine looking into the mirror and seeing lines and bags and saggy bits.
Recently I’ve started doing this a bit – guess more so since Mr Executive ratted off. My current lover is 3 years younger than me and black, so doesn’t show his age at all. Not long ago he asked me, IF he asked me to marry him, would I say yes. Which is not the same as asking me to marry him. So I said I wasn’t sure – because I wasn’t sure. Anyway the idea’s grown on me, not exactly of marrying, but of him. Something he said about wanting to do more volunteer work with old people, which made me think, maybe this man is worth loving And I’ve got fond of him.
So now I’m feeling insecure and like he might change his mind and not want me after all, because every time I look in the damn mirror my face looks more and more haggard! I used to be able to attract as many men as I needed to get by – now I’m starting not to even attract myself. If I stop finding myself sexy – if I start thinking ‘how could you be making love to this old bag’ and wanting to turn the light out – then the fun’ll go out of sex.
That’s the thing about being shallow, you get worried about these things.