I seem to spend much of my life these days stopping my body falling apart - do you? Starting at the top and working down: I make more and more frequent trips to the hairdresser to keep my hair any colour other than grey. Then there's my scalp which seems to need some attention as my hair is getting a bit thin - probably from all that colouring. Then there's teeth, I am long overdue a trip to the dentist - the special dentist that is, to look at the results of an operation I had last year under my gums - ghastly! Then the hygienist - a sadistic bitch from hell who prods and pokes and makes my gums bleed then says all is well. I have to pay vast sums of money for this reassuring information - but I do. My forehead likes a bit of botox from time to time so I am less wrinkled of brow and eye. Then I mustn't forget the optician who prescribes me specs through which I can see absolutely nothing but blur. I also need a long overdue glaucoma test. My skin needs attention so I have to go to the beautician and whilst I'm there I'll mention my saggy neck. My hairy caterpillar eyebrows need shaping and my nails need a manicure. The hairs on my legs need pulling out and my bikini line needs some attention. And I need to take my aching shoulder to the osteopath, my boobs to the breast cancer screening clinic, my insides to the gynecologist, my feet to the chiropodist and my brain to the psychiatrist (no I'd rather not open that box of frogs!). I am also woefully overweight so need to go to the diet clinic.
Absolutely none of these very expensive things make me look or feel notably better - except the botox which is probably the least necessary of any of these treatments and encourages vanity to extreme.
Today, I'm taking my greying, thinning, blind, wrinkly, hairy, ratty, fat, old body to the doctor for a chit chat about my general health. Hope they've allowed extra time.
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