Cheval, Chips and Chardonnay

Cheval, Chips and Chardonnay…( A WORK IN PROGRESS)

I was gorgeous.  Sex on a stick one bloke said once.  I wasn’t tall, five foot three and a half (the half was very important).
A young, effortlessly slim body, long dark hair, full enough lips and blue eyes, guys would just fall into.  Easy.
With all that going on and the self esteem of a gnat, I had enough bravado and front to trade sex for attention. I had all that power…  Thought I was in control…if that were true I wouldn’t have been left  wondering what would come first, a genuine orgasm or my pension.
I could turn on the porn star pout, look up to men through my lashes, make them believe they were the biggest, the best.  Two ego’s with one stroke, the dick and the head. Same thing really!
Stroking my own ego with my beauty and sexual power was as short as my 20’s and as shallow as my chardonnay.
My 30’s had the appearance of growing up but had a lot to do with fucking up, Royally!  then tripping up, into my fabulous fat forties where somehow I managed to lose sight of my bikini line but glimpsed a bit of me.  Cottoning on to false promises, make-up “Because your worth it”, hair products , “it won’t happen over night, but it will happen”,  no hot body no matter what angle you stand at, no man in my bedroom, just a cheval mirror.
I had always wanted a cheval and was easily thrilled when I came across one at a swap-meet. A genuine old antique.  It now stands in a quiet corner of my bedroom, actually, my whole bedroom is quiet.
It may sound strange but I hadn’t actually seen my body for quite some time, but there is no hiding from this mirror, tilted and quite laid back.  It calmly reflects back my dimply butt cheeks and chunky calve muscles.  I have courageously confronted this image of me and with the help of some life coaching I can now smile and compliment bits of me.  Like my boobs.  I quite enjoyed the way pregnancy and eating crap had somehow made them larger than the original fried eggs I ran about with at high school.
They are my worry when considering a weight loss programme.  They might be the first to go.  I’ll reclaim my slender body accompanied with the southern dwelling casualties dangling like old Xmas stockings from the fire place mantle.
I think not.  Pass me some damn chips and a  very large chardonnay.

Claire Lawrie