Other people's Paris, or She's a babe, I'm not
Reading other people's blogs about Paris is fascinating, because although I share this town (or to be exact the suburbs of this town) with millions of other people living lives vastly different from my own, they only become real when I read their blogs.
I found a Paris blog today called 'Confessions of a young woman', which sounded promisingly pervy, but turned out not to be. It was a standard 'Ooh isn't Paris lovely in the spring' post (yeah yeah). And then came the parallel universe moment: 'I find myself constantly locked in stares with young men on motorbikes, and hold myself back from climbing aboard.' and 'I was pulled over by young security men, as innocent looking as I am, while everyone else from my plane was ushered through. They grinned and asked me questions that had nothing to do with airport security,' and there were others, but by then I was lost in thought as to Where It All Went Wrong.
I scrolled down and came across some of her holiday snaps, and I can vouch for the fact that the young woman is innocent looking, but I sure can see the security men's, and the Greek waiter's, and the young motorbikers' point of view.
As I begin to accelerate away from 30, there are moments when my increasing lack of babedom is brought to my attention.
The first moment came about a year ago when pregnant with my second child. It was hubski's birthday and we'd invited round one of his colleagues who had recently got divorced. And when I opened the door and saw the cause of the divorce standing next to him, my heart hit my boots in a most unsisterly manner, for I knew then to prepare for an evening of invisibility.
I often think how galling it must be for older women, who despite their life achievements and the years spent acquiring a real personality, slowly but surely fade from the radar.
I'm not moaning - everyone gets their go at being young and sexy. I'm fairly happy with the way I look now, ironically far happier than I was years ago when I can see from photos that if I'd made more of an effort, got rid of the army surplus kit and wiped the gormless expression off my face, I would have actually been quite fit.
So, young woman, next time you see a sexy biker on a Paris street corner, don't hold back. Climb on board while you still can.
I found a Paris blog today called 'Confessions of a young woman', which sounded promisingly pervy, but turned out not to be. It was a standard 'Ooh isn't Paris lovely in the spring' post (yeah yeah). And then came the parallel universe moment: 'I find myself constantly locked in stares with young men on motorbikes, and hold myself back from climbing aboard.' and 'I was pulled over by young security men, as innocent looking as I am, while everyone else from my plane was ushered through. They grinned and asked me questions that had nothing to do with airport security,' and there were others, but by then I was lost in thought as to Where It All Went Wrong.
I scrolled down and came across some of her holiday snaps, and I can vouch for the fact that the young woman is innocent looking, but I sure can see the security men's, and the Greek waiter's, and the young motorbikers' point of view.
As I begin to accelerate away from 30, there are moments when my increasing lack of babedom is brought to my attention.
The first moment came about a year ago when pregnant with my second child. It was hubski's birthday and we'd invited round one of his colleagues who had recently got divorced. And when I opened the door and saw the cause of the divorce standing next to him, my heart hit my boots in a most unsisterly manner, for I knew then to prepare for an evening of invisibility.
I often think how galling it must be for older women, who despite their life achievements and the years spent acquiring a real personality, slowly but surely fade from the radar.
I'm not moaning - everyone gets their go at being young and sexy. I'm fairly happy with the way I look now, ironically far happier than I was years ago when I can see from photos that if I'd made more of an effort, got rid of the army surplus kit and wiped the gormless expression off my face, I would have actually been quite fit.
So, young woman, next time you see a sexy biker on a Paris street corner, don't hold back. Climb on board while you still can.
posted by francesca tereshkova | 1:49 PM
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