Blog Posts

What a load of Pants!

image-2Yesterday my puppy stole my pants from the laundry basket. Naughty puppy.

I’ve been able to fill up the pantry, now that my kitchen is nearly finished.

Chasing the puppy to retrieve my pants, left me panting.

Sometimes I can be a tad flippant when I really should take things a little more seriously.

The rams in the field near my favourite dog walk are rampantly engaged in making next years lambs.

Just so you know, I’m based in the U.K., where underpants are more commonly called pants, or even knickers! If something is dreadful, it may also be referred to as ‘being pants’!

Thanks to Linda G Hill, I am a participant in this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

Blog Posts, Menopausal Mutterings

The wrong knickers…

What a joy the menopause is, with its weird and varied symptoms. One of them is muscle and joint stiffening. Of course, there is a degree of wear and tear that comes with age. That said, the approach of menopause seems to speed things up somewhat. This is me in the morning until I get moving.


Sometimes I get stuck somewhere in the middle for no apparent reason.

My latest incident occurred while I was innocently enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet at the bottom of the garden, book in one hand, and a freshly mixed gin and tonic in the other. All I did was to stand up. Nothing wild. No sudden moments or twists. Just a movement I repeat on a regular basis throughout the day. Buggrit!

Limping towards the house, in search of another G & T, I tried to figure out what I did differently. I came up with nothing. How could something so mundane as getting up out of a seat strain my butt and back muscles? Armed with a fresh glass of muscle relaxant (a.k.a. G & T) and a cushion, I began some research.

Menopause, not content with disrupting my thermostatic control, has decided to invite random muscle pain to join the party. Turns out those dropping levels of oestrogen can play havoc with the body’s ability to keep the joints and muscles moving smoothly. Oh great! Another symptom I need to research. So I am now on the hunt for the human equivalent of WD40 to try to keep my joints, muscles, and tendons rust-free.

The following day I realise I need some urgent pain-relief that doesn’t involve copious quantities of gin. Much as I like the sound of experimenting with various brands, tonics, and fruits, I still need to function at work and in the car. A timely phone call to my local chiropractor gets me the last available appointment for the same day. Hooray! Popping a couple of painkillers, I deal with the rest of the working day and turn up to the clinic.

I should point out that normally, I prepare for the day clothing-wise, depending on what is in the diary for the day as well as the weather conditions. As the chiropractor appointment was a last-minute addition, I hadn’t factored this into the underwear preparation. My chiropractor, a lovely young woman, called me into the treatment room, took a good history of my reason for visiting, before handing me a gown to change into. These gowns are similar to those you encounter in hospitals. Frontal coverage is perfect, but the rear is open to the world, or at least the professional treating you.

As I undressed and donned the gown, I caught sight of my underwear in the mirror. To my horror, I was wearing the wrong knickers. I laughingly call them butt-flossers and they are great for a seamless look in skinny jeans. However, they are totally inappropriate for back treatment! What to do? I stood there, transfixed by my own rear until the poor woman called through the closed door, to ask if I was ok. Somewhat flustered, I replied that I was fine but there was a problem. Curious to know what on earth was going on, she enquired if I needed some help. Was the pain in my back preventing me from disrobing?

There was nothing for it. I had to admit to wearing the wrong knickers. Stifling a giggle, she replied that this was a common occurrence and that I could help myself to as much paper roll (that stuff that lies on top of the examination couch) to construct a little modesty skirt. Quick as a flash, my rudimentary origami skills came to the fore and I fashioned a pleated skirt and tucked it into the offending underwear.

It wasn’t likely win design awards, but it did give my chiropractor something more to smile about. She remarked that common though this incident is in her professional life; my solution was the most creative she’s seen to date.

It just goes to show how creative I can be when needed.

P.S. Note to self; always carry spare big knickers in handbag in case of chiropractic emergencies.