Standing On The Edge of Reason

Standing on the edge- the edge of a steep climb- the edge of reason or the insanity depending on a panorama! I am making out olive groves, pastel shades- mist enveloping the sky. On the previous day, the sky was a mosaic of winged clouds against the palest of blue so that the observing youth with perfectly highlighted hair and white teeth took off their sunglasses and peeked optimistically above- in Nothing Hill, Portabella Market where I spent many youthful afternoons with my ethnically diverse crew- just like I.

Today I am with my own crew, two children and a careworn husband turning 45. We both envy the youth as we always did, I suspect even in our youth. Haha. In the roaring crowd of the Nothing Hill Carnival: rainbows and hips swaying to SKA music- with our ethnically diverse crew. We too swayed our narrow hips pantolloned in faded jeans (student fashion really sacked) to the music, alas without much rhythm. Though rhythmic beatings of our hearts. My husband held my hand awkwardly for the first time. This wasn’t even the beginning of our courtship yet. I was flattered as there were two more ladies in our crew (ethnically diverse like myself and my husband) and considerably narrower hips, definitely flatter tums and bums. I blushed a little, later my future husband would say that he was trying to save me from the stampede. Haha.

Today, we are not getting along. I suspect he has fallen out of love with me. I can’t confront him yet so that I weep and I weep. Every little criticism smashes my guts. Sometimes I catch him glimpsing at a younger women with longer hair, skin much paler than mine.  I no longer rage just whimper openly or quietly. I shave every single hair on my body going against my feminist instincts. The stumps stab my skin, still perfect and intact. I resolve to go on a strict diet even vegan on some days. All in the name of saving the planet, I lie to myself and my kids. Am I ready to substitute oat milk in my strong coffee like many of my friends? I suspect not- not yet, for I am the girl of science and reason deep in my heart of hearts. Hearth before heart!

I am standing on the edge today, the edge of a stiff climb with my aging knees, taking a drag from my imaginary cigar of my carefree youth. I pass it on a historian friend of  long gone era (born at the age of fifty). He takes a drag and passes it on. We talk about his deep admiration of Churchill and the more disturbingly the Iron Lady. His mother was a victim of domestic abuse you understand! Therefore The Iron Lady was his mother substitute Freud might say. Where is Freud when you most need him? Where is he these days? What would he say about my crumbling marriage? Is it all a figment of my imagination? Husbands get older and become less enthused about wives? Wives must go on strict diets vegan even?

I am standing on the edge today, the edge of a stiff climb looking into perfectly manicured gardens. Mother says I should learn to drive and go on a strict diet. My younger friend confides and confides. And confides. In me. I don’t confide. I don’t talk about my fears of losing my husband. I can no longer go for a run though still can perfect my make- up. Copper shades on the eye blending into olive green kohl. The lips are always fuchsia. Teeth imperfect. Must escape to Czech Republic in near future for perfect teeth and perhaps even hoisted bust. But I am a girl of science? How can I reconcile?  Your busts are perfect, husband would say in times of crises. Though not much these days. I haven’t mentioned my filthy need for hoisted busts yet. Not to him. Just to myself. He doesn’t comment on my make up or my Parisian style. My hips are no longer narrow these days nor my collarbone is visible.