There are some things that cannot be done in a ladylike fashion, no matter how hard we try.
Yes, we’ve all watched the actresses and models sliding out of their cars, so dignified and graceful.
Not me. I climb out of cars like a farmer climbs down from a tractor, legs apart and with a big shuffle. I have as much grace as a sumo wrestler. Even eating spaghetti, I end up looking as though I’ve been shot with a paint gun.
Then there’s tights. Women all over the world (and some men I’m told) put tights on every single day. Someone out there is likely putting some on at this very moment. There’s that advert for Pretty Polly, where this slender woman pulls one foot on then the other and, as if by magic, they smoothly move up her body.
Not me, oh no! I manage to put them over my feet and calves alright - well, I say alright, what I mean is I don’t fall off the side of the bed - but it’s all downhill from there. Lower legs accomplished, I then have to stand up and sort of wriggle and jump into them. I bend my knees like a ballerina warming up and jump some more, absolutely nothing like the graceful woman on television. And just as I shout “Yes they’re on!”...yep, you guessed it. A finger goes straight through and a ladder runs all the way down. It’s enough to make to make even the most sane woman tear them to shreds, ripping them off like the Hulk ripping open his shirt.
I’d like to say that the un- ladylike things stop there, but unfortunately they don’t.
Putting on a quilt cover is another one. ‘Easy’ I hear you shout. Well maybe for you it is, but not for me. Somehow I always seem to end up inside of it, which must make me look like Sponge Bob Square pants in a floral dress.
Bar stools are another problem. They may look easy to climb on to, but mark my words they are not. I think that they are probably traps set by men so that they can watch us ladies struggling and have a giggle at our expense. I start by hitching one leg up and then shuffling my bottom on. Doing the forward, backward dance hoping that no-one is watching, then when I do finally manage to sit down, there’s the problem of actually staying on. Some bar stools turn - big problem! We’re then faced with the fear of being catapulted across the room at high speed.
I don’t think that men actually understand how flipping difficult it is to be a woman. Maybe I should just accept the fact that there are some things I will never be able to do in a ladylike fashion.