Let’s do this together

It came as quite a shock yesterday to read in the Mirror that I am at my sexual peak.

I celebrated – or do I mean recalibrated? – my 53rd birthday two weeks ago, which is the age of peak sexiness according to Tuesday’s alarming story on page three. Just under the glamour shots of Liz Hurley, whose relentless sexiness sadly never ceases to peak.

I suppose when your day job is selling bikinis, then it pays to keep the “body shop” well buffed and in tip-top form. If I had to rely on my body to sell products, then I guess at a push I could flog garden pond covers, or those big foil sun shades for car windscreens.

Thing is, I don’t feel at my sexual peak, which perhaps is the trick to sex appeal. At 53, you no longer care what blokes think, and to quote an old romance tip from My Guy mag circa 1982 (which is where I sourced all of my life’s relationship advice), “You gotta treat ’em mean, to keep ’em keen.”

Or in my case, just ignore them all. Works for me! Quite frankly, it’s excruciating enough going through the terrifying anxious teenage years again with The Dark Lord – who’s convinced the entire world would spin off its axis if she accidentally wears double denim – without having to worry what others think.

And if hitting 50 makes you feel liberated, it’s that you finally find the freedom to do what you want, and everyone else’s opinion can get stuffed.

So on that basis, peak sexiness can only get better with age, which means my 77-year-old mum – who never listens to a word that anyone says – is the ultimate sex goddess.

But when I mentioned this to her on the phone, where she’s at home recovering from Covid, she sounded quite put out, saying, “Oh not again. I gave that up for Lent back in 1972.”

■ Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.