I am enjoying my anti anti ageing experiment. My newly cropped silver-streaked locks have brought me nothing but compliments and a more efficient use of shampoo. I am free from the tyranny of hair dye and now skip merrily past the boxes of permanent colour in the supermarket, saving precious time and money for spending on essentials like wine.
Flushed with success (and possibly wine) I decided to take my all natural hair out to a party over the weekend.
As I stood in my bedroom in my robe, pondering what to wear, I realised that I now faced a new dilemma. If I was a young 20something my pants would be sexy, alluring and small. Not huge, industrial and the same surface area as a bed sheet (king size).
Of course I am not a young 20something, I am a 40something woman and proud of it. I have silver bits in my hair. I boast about my anti anti ageing experiment. But if I go to a party in enormous pants and get lucky will my intended paramour be deterred? Or would they relish the challenge?
A wisp of lace looks ever so pretty but it does leave your belly and butt to fend for themselves. That's fine when they are non existent but when they have a sizeable presence, perhaps even their own postcode and gravitational pull, you need something more substantial. Otherwise you could end up way beyond muffin top territory and find yourself in cottage loaf land.
In the end I went with the mega huge control pants of doom, that squidge everything in, swaddle the wobble, and come up to my armpits. I didn't feel particularly sexy but I did feel like I'd just donned a wetsuit and was therefore confident I would be all right on the flooded roads into town.
The party went well, the control pants protected my borders and I did not get lucky at all. Was it the pants, the way I felt about my pants, or the fact I stayed sober? I shall have to experiment further.