Face versus Figure

I'm going to a wedding in December.

This morning, I tried on my very favourite and preferred dress. It did not fit.

"Strange?" I mused, as I tucked into last night's takeaway for breakfast.

I first wore the dress nine years ago. Perhaps it's unreasonable to hope to carry off the same frock all these years later? In any case, when I look in the mirror, I'm happy with what I see, so how come my beloved threads don't fit?

Horrified, I shovelled the last mouthful down, donned my Lycra, noosed Hound, and headed out for a fat burning moor run.

It is said that once a woman reaches a certain age, she must choose between her figure and her face. I think the gist is that a certain amount of fat 'plumps' the skin and any wrinkles found within it, whereas if you're skin and bone your wrinkly skin can fold in all its glory.

Hound and I paced the moor, revelling in the September sunshine. Wow, what a treat. Hound is pictured, soaking in the rays.

Once home, I was struck by a thump in my skull. One pint of water, two Neurofen and seven slices of chocolate orange later I felt on top of the world once again and fit for an afternoon date with my favourite friends, lubricated with fine craft ale and delicious Dominos pizza. Hound loves the crusts.

Face versus figure... the jury's out!!