I have had a husband for a quarter of a century.
I am in love with 007.
I watched Top Gun over eighty times because Maverick was my hero. I am pretty sure I am 100% heterosexual.
There have been one or two (or three or four) females whose forms I cannot help but appreciate. It’s more of an appreciation society of beauty than a sexual thing. Trinny Woodall is one such woman. I say woman, because she is 53, although I realise she looks twenty years younger. Her features fascinate me. Her poise and elegance ooze from the television: I want to be her. My aims to tame my own Worzel Gummidge friz into smooth Grace Kelly locks usually falter around the Debbie Harry stage.
I looked forward to Trimny’s weekly fashion show with Susannah Constantine. They were fairly harsh with some of the nervous contestants I felt, all those years ago in the mid/late 90s, but now looking back I would call them assertive and encouraging. The contestants would stand in their died-grey underwear in a mirrored booth and the girls would stand behind them “ooohing” and sucking in their breath, analysing body shapes and previously chosen wardrobe items which they would literally hold up like some dead vermin before binning.
It was an early reality show where a before and after comparison was mostly worthy of an Oscar. The contestants would have a total makeover and the new image would finally be revealed to us, the audience, at the same time as the contestant. A little like a clothes version of Changing Rooms. I usually shed a tear when the silk drape slinked to the floor exposing the mirror and a disbelieving woman within. They would always gasp and turn to check whether their bum looked big in the new attire, swing their new choppy bob and admire their professional make up.
Looking back, I realise now it was a huge illustration of building self-esteem.
They went on to co-write a series of books in the early noughties about what not to wear to various occasions (I bought them all, devoured the advice and immediately reverted to my charity shop purchases 🙄 but that’s because there is a part of me that is inherently lazy. Can you please remind me of this if I don’t crack on with those short stories?!).
I saw Trinny’s photo in The Telegraph a few days ago and wanted to share these thoughts with you. Funny little thoughts we have sometimes!
No great shakes. I don’t think I’ll be fantasising about her when I pull the duvet up to my chin and roll over to face the wall….