Onward Christian (Dior)Soldiers

ONWARD CHRISTIAN (DIOR) SOLDIERS

It’s a little known fact my mother won the Second World War single-handed. Or so she’d have me believe, although on a mellower day she will give her hero Winston Churchill some credit. Not a week goes by without some reference to those war-torn years in which she grew up and according to her gave far and beyond the call of duty.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” she’ll repeatedly state, as if I’m personally responsible. “You have no idea what it’s like to live through a war.”

How wrong she is, although I’d never dare argue the point. Having reached a certain age, I fight my battles daily. My enemy? That cruel, ruthless opponent who goes by the name of Mother Nature.

Oh yes, I’m young at heart and proud of it. But it’s not enough to lie back and think of England as the ravages of time attack and destroy my physical appearance. I flatly refuse to join the ranks of the mature, elderly lady and will fight in the face of adversity to fool the world, and probably myself into the bargain, I’m still a young (okay youngish) party animal. This requires military precision and rigorous planning. Not to mention a twenty-five hour day and an ever-decreasing bank balance.

You see, there are certain aspects of this maturing business I’m not prepared to surrender to without a fight.


1. I will NOT give in to grey hair and a monthly perm with Pamela, the mobile hairdresser. (‘She’s very reasonable you know,’ they say, nodding their freshly blue-rinsed tightly-curled heads.) Okay, so it takes a lot of time and costs a bit to visit the hairdressers regularly, touch up the roots in between, apply top of the range shampoos and conditioners, weekly heat treatments, straightening lotions and styling mousse. Not to mention the box full of electrical driers, straighteners, volume boosters and steam conditioners which takes up half the bathroom cupboard. But I swear it’s worth every minute and penny spent.


2. I will NOT give in to the wrinkled, bespectacled, toothless face associated with women past their prime. Okay, so it takes a lot of time and costs a bit to have bridge treatment and extensive surgery at the dentist, order fresh packs of disposable contact lens from the optician every month and develop the patience to actually put them in place, not to mention crawling around the floor to retrieve the dropped ones or attempting to remove them when totally rat-arsed. Buying and applying moisturisers, day creams, night creams, toners, correction cream, intense deep wrinkle filler, line minimiser, eye cream, cleansing milk and extra vital restoring serum may seem a bit over the top and require a degree as well as a Lottery win but I can guarantee it’s worth it.


3. I will NOT allow myself to turn into a frumpy middle-aged dumpling with a waist size larger than my hips and a droopy butt and bosom. Okay, so it may take a lot of time and cost a bit to attend a gym three times a week, invest in miracle-performing underwear and home-produce meals low in fat and carbohydrate that don’t resemble rabbit food. Not to mention the bottled water, vitamin pills and supplements, slimming patches and anti-cellulite toning gels. But I promise it’s worth all the effort.


4. I will NOT become a beige chameleon, blending into the background and hoping not to be noticed. Not for me the big knickers, cross-your-heart bras or passion-killing winceyette night attire. I will NEVER purchase a pleated skirt, a buttoned-to-the-neck blouse, strings of pearls, support tights or sensible flat sandals. Okay, it might take up a lot of time and cost a bit to find fashionable clothes for the more mature figure, trendy jewellery and five inch heels that don’t make my feet scream in agony but believe me it’s worth it.


5. I will NOT spend my twilight years swooning over the grandchildren, playing Bingo, green bowling, reminiscing and playing oldies but goldies on my music centre. No holidays in Bournemouth, cottages on the Isle of Wight, cocoa and early nights for me. No Siree. Okay, it might take a lot of time and cost a bit to go out in stretched limos, attend pop concerts, hold parties until four in the morning and travel abroad but I tell you it’s definitely worth it.


So there you have it and I can hear you muttering “But you’ll never win.” Oh don’t worry; I’m quite aware of that. But when they lay me to rest with my flawlessly manicured hands and pedicured feet, my face made up to perfection in my best outfit and stilettos, complete with dangly earrings and ankle chain, at least I’ll be ready to meet my maker with a smile. Can you imagine what a relief it will be? Maybe then I’ll be able to spend my time doing better things than fighting the passage of time and save enough money to buy a harp and rent a cloud for eternity. Angels don’t age do they? I know what you’re thinking on that subject too, but do you really think besides vanity I have enough time or money to commit any other unforgivable sins? Anyway, I have it on good authority there’s a vacancy up there for someone to teach those bloggers on the other side to stick to lists of five.

But until that day my battle with aging will continue. I shall fight in the bathroom, I shall fight in the department stores, I shall fight on the treadmill and exercise bike. I shall fight in the beauty salon. I shall never surrender.

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