The Midults’ guide to…

Annabel Rivkin & Em­i­lie Mcmeekan

The Daily Telegraph - Telegraph Magazine - - Contents -

Things we used to mock


You laughed, right? Be­cause you don’t need to be told how to breathe. (‘Don’t for­get to breathe’ in all those ag­o­nis­ing dy­namic Pi­lates classes.) You are prac­ti­cally a yogi. I mean you have the Lu­l­ule­mon leg­gings… Ex­cept some­one sends you a link to and you fol­low the lit­tle blue bub­ble, and breathe in and out, and it’s the first time you’ve felt even vaguely sane all week.


Oh for heaven’s sake with their Lark and their Amaro and their sat­u­ra­tion and that rain­bow fil­ter and ‘oh look, they make such a cute baby panda’ and ‘wow she looks un­be­liev­able’ and ‘show us again how to whiten our eyes and smooth out our fore­heads and re­shape our chins’ and we re­alise we will never know­ingly be #nofil­ter again.


All those ter­ri­fy­ing In­sta pic­tures of peo­ple in sheet masks look­ing mum­mi­fied and you think, ‘This will never catch on.’ And then a friend does one in front of you – maybe on hol­i­day or when you are away for one of those house ‘des­ti­na­tion’ par­ties in the coun­try – and you mock her in­abil­ity to speak and laugh at her post-plas­tic­surgery-ap­pear­ance. Then she re­moves it and it has taken five years off her face. Hand ’em over, sis­ter.


Hon­estly you’ve got enough kitchen uten­sils rat­tling around, so why do you need tongs when a fork or a knife or a spat­ula or a wooden spoon will do? Ex­cept you’ve been given them and now you are tong­ing ev­ery­thing: the meat, the pasta, the salad, the sweet­corn. You prac­ti­cally tong glasses from coun­ter­top to ta­ble. You tong teabags. Me love you tong­time.


Why can’t they just get dressed? What is it with the py­ja­mas? To the shops, to the park, on the sofa, in the pub, on the plane, to the shrink, at the doc­tor. Frankly we took a dim view. Then. Now? Please just bring us all the py­ja­mas. The Olivia Von Halles for when we need to pre­tend that we are fully func­tional hu­man women, worn with a Seren silk ki­mono. The cropped Eber­jey ones for when we are feel­ing girl­ish. The men’s brushed-cot­ton M&S ones for when we are be­ing our­selves. The sprigged-cot­ton Lunn Antiques ones for when we are in full-blown fan­ta­sylife mode (gypsy car­a­van at the end of the ap­ple or­chard etc).


Never. Never, ever, ever. Pil­low cheeks. Stretched skin. Ex­cept… When done well. Holy hell you look amaz­ing, gor­geous. You had it in your tem­ples, you say? Com­pelling.


Just like a hardcore Gor­don Gekko, you used to think ‘me time’ was for wimps. What did it even mean? Baths? Soak­ing your own quinoa? Knit­ting? Oh, how you sneered. And then you went a bit mad. And that was a les­son learnt.


Full moon, full schmoon. It has ab­so­lutely no bear­ing on you as a hu­man be­ing… None at all. It’s just weird that the dog goes nuts and you sleep less than usual (not a wink as op­posed to four hours, 34 min­utes) and you feel wired, like some­one is pluck­ing your in­ner vi­o­lin, and ev­ery­one is fight­ing. You are, af­ter all, largely made up of wa­ter and your in­ner tides are go­ing bal­lis­tic and you hate ev­ery­one and ARRRRROOOOOOO.


Yes, apos­tro­phes mat­ter – this is a hill you will die on. You love books. Books are the best. Yes, you are lit­er­ally over lit­er­ally, it is im­por­tant not to speak in code all the time and not just be LOL and LMAO. But, see­ing as we’re both time-pushed and also vaguely down with the kids (Oh God) WTF is civil­i­sa­tion com­ing to? I mean. FML.

I’m Ab­so­lutely Fine! A Man­ual For Im­per­fect Women, by The Midults, is out now (Cas­sell, £16.99); The Midults’ pod­cast is free to down­load at itunes.ap­

You used to think ‘me time’ was for wimps. Oh how you sneered. Then you went a bit mad. Les­son learnt

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