Dignity

One of the great things about getting older is that you no longer stand on your dignity. Embarrassment, mortification even, are now things of the past, thrown away with those birthday cards with the unflattering numbers on. Which is a good thing really considering that at my osteopath-cum-acupuncturist this morning, I was lying face down on the couch, knickers at half mast, with two needles stuck into the wobbling cellulite of my left buttock.

How does that feel, said Mr T as he turned up the electro-probes? Well, it’s like a hot needle, said I. Is it bearable, asks he? Oh yes, said I. Right, I’ll turn it up then. Cue tensing of flabby bum cheek as it all gets a little intense down there. But it’s working, so I forgive him. Besides, any man who can pull down my keks without laughing is alright by me...