I’d love to be like the pyjama girls
When snaps of two women doing daytime Tesco shopping in their PJs hit social media this month, the outrage was predictable.
Comments ranged from “bloody disgusting” to “no shame” and “sign of bone idleness”.
But when I saw photos of the pair in their pink terry gowns and slippers, my reaction was: “Oh, I wish I could do that sometimes.”
I couldn’t help but envy and admire their guts and confidence. Not caring about what others thought. If only I was so brave.
On Loose Women this week, that need for courage only felt stronger as it was revealed middle- aged women are most likely to have a diet obsession or disorder – little wonder when you look at our culture’s obsession with “thinness”.
I find it exhausting being a woman in today’s world. Everywhere I look – on TV, social media or in magazines – I’m constantly reminded of my imperfections.
And at 47, I am trying everything I can to stop Mother Nature’s curse – ageing. The battle is costing me a small fortune, taking up a lot of my valuable time and stressing me out.
I’ve worked out it takes me an hour to get ready every day – that’s 365 hours per year just putting on my make-up.
I spend around £ 500 a year colouring my grey hairs – and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep saying to myself “looks and appearances” don’t really matter. But who am I kidding? Of course they do. People judge on first impressions, and at my age keeping up with the Kardashians is not easy. The effort I have to put into my personal grooming just to look decent nowadays is exhausting – but it must be done if I’m not to look my natural state – a female version of Tom Selleck in Magnum PI.
SHAVED
My biggest expense and most time- consuming activity is hair management – hair on my head, upper lip, eyebrows, chin, legs, underarms, toes and pubic area.
It has to be either dyed, plucked, waxed, trimmed, threaded, shaved or lasered. So I’ve got a Hollywood, an arch brow, lowlights and highlights and a style called a blunt bob.
Every two weeks my hairdresser friend Lydia comes in with her rubber gloves and gives me a good seeing to. My maintenance regime is like putting a car through its MOT – only on a far more regular basis.
Eyebrows, eyelashes, cuticles, nails, hand, feet, elbows and knees all need servicing, guv. And that means cutting, whitening, dyeing, scrubbing, smoothing, painting or exfoliating. Then there’s my diet. I can’t eat what I like now. My relationship with food depends on its calorie levels and my body needs support. So I go for bodyshaping slips, lift-and-slim tights and push-up bras. I’m squeezed, pinched and contoured under every outfit.
I’m told that, in my mid-40s, my metabolism has slowed. And with the dreaded menopause on the horizon, everything is getting wrinklier, drier and saggier. Even the high street potions don’t work on my skin any more, so I have my own special blend of heavy duty oils to give my skin its lost glow.
If I just gave all this up, I’d be a hairy prune in a week.
I envy my mum who never had it so hard. Immac satisfied all her grooming needs. Her heyday was the 70s when everyone had bad hair, sweaty armpits, furry top lips, bad teeth and loose clothes. When people seemed happy and relaxed.
So maybe the pyjama girls have found the balance? What’s wrong with taking time out from “getting ready”, and embracing comfort over conformity?
Now where are those slippers of mine? I think we’re a bit low on milk…
So pleased to see Her Majesty back in action after recovering from a heavy cold. At 90 years old she is a great example of a woman who takes life by the rei(g)ns and rules.