3 months later
“Okay, this is an intervention. Put the kettle on while we explain.”
My friends had come over for lunch, or so I thought. Vee, Lizzy, and Becks stood in my kitchen, their faces serious.
I turned to fill the kettle and when I looked back, they had vanished, their voices sounding out from upstairs. “What the hell is going on?” I called as I followed them, finding them in my bedroom. “Ladies, care to explain?”
Becks spun around, her long blonde hair moving like she was in a shampoo commercial. “How about you explain?” She shook an old, off-white bra in one hand and a huge pair of tan-coloured panties in the other.
“What? So my underwear is practical and well-loved. What’s the problem?”
“The problem…” Vee shouted from where her head was buried in my wardrobe. “… is you’re single now and in the prime of your life, but you dress like you’re a middle-aged frump.”
I hissed.
“Sorry. Too much?” she asked as she turned, pulling clothes off the hanger with her.
I shook my head, knowing that straight talking was her way. “No, but you could have been a bit gentler with me. I’m newly divorced, you know.” I pouted, but she was having none of it, rolling her blue eyes.
“Sit,” Lizzy instructed, and I moved to the end of the bed while she perched next to me, her slight frame barely making an indent. “We love you. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” I replied because these women were my ride or die; friends for over thirty years.
“Right, so we’re saying this because you need to hear it. You’re forty-nine, beautiful, funny, you have a great job, your own home, and your own teeth.” I bared my pearly whites. “You’re a great catch.”
I huffed.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” she asked, pointing to my vanity across from us where I could see my reflection.
I straightened my spine, sucked in my overhanging stomach, which did little to change the way I looked, and then I focused on my face. “Larger than I want to be. Someone old. Past my prime. Tired.”
She took my hand, tutting softly at my reply. “Do you know what we see?” I shrugged. “Someone who is stunning, but who’s given up. Your underwear, your clothes, your hair. You dress like you’re twenty years older than you are. When was the last time you went shopping, or wore something that made you feel sexy? When did you last buy underwear because you wanted to feel hot and not just pick something that would suck in your tummy?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s the point? No one will see them. It’s a waste of money.”
Vee came and sat on the other side of me, her tight black curls bouncing as she did. “But you’re not doing it for anyone else. You’d be doing it for you. To make yourself feel amazing.”
“And,” Becks added, “wouldn’t you like to meet someone… not even anyone serious, but someone you could fool around with, have some orgasms with?”
I snorted. “Yeah. I’m too old for that.”
“For what?” Lizzy asked, her eyebrows vanishing under her poker-straight fringe.
“Orgasms.”
“Go on,” Vee encouraged, her mouth hanging open like I’d said something shocking.
“I’ve not had one in years. Gary told me that women my age struggle with them. The menopause and all that. That's why he stopped trying to… you know… to give me them.”
The three of them stared at me for an uncomfortably long time before Vee leapt up. “Fuck, ladies, this is going to need alcohol. Shall we have a liquid lunch and get to the bottom of this?” she declared, tossing the dresses she was holding onto the bed. “Let’s go into town for cocktails and then we can do some shopping, because Helen...” She held out her hand to pull me up. “It’s time for you to have a makeover.”
Two hours and two margaritas later, I was in the changing room of the department store in our small coastal town, staring down at the black lace bra and matching panties I was wearing.
“Here, put this on, too.” Lizzy passed me a light blue dress.
“It won’t fit,” I retorted as I held it in front of me.
“Try it, Helen. Please.” The way she extended the ‘please’ as if she was begging made me cave to her request.
