I just saw an advert on TV for an anti-ageing toothpaste. Is it possible that we now have to worry about our teeth ageing?? Isn't it traumatic enough to have to prepare ourselves for sagging wrinkly bottoms, bingo wings and chicken necks? (Not to mention the horrific - sorry, marvellous - things pregnancy does to your body. More on that later).
I saw this toothpaste ad on our new TV - the purchase of which aged me considerably. Have you bought a TV recently? No? Well, let me tell you, they're not box-shaped anymore. You also need a degree in techno-bullshit to understand if you're buying a TV or a fully staffed multi-screen cinema. The price tags are about the same. The funny thing is that no matter how much you spend, or how much your TV looks like a prop from Star Trek, it will give all your DVDs the same image quality of Prisoner Cell Block H. This is apparently called 'progress'. And by the way, hands up if you can actually tell the difference between normal and HD. Thought not.
On my first day home alone with the new TV I discovered another thing. It doesn't have an on/off switch. Now, I must explain that not only am I seven months pregnant, but also that we have just temporarily moved from Florence to Milan. I NEED to be able to watch TV in order to distract myself from the nightmare that is living surrounded by unpacked boxes and the never-ending bureaucratic procedures involved in getting myself registered in a different region's health system. Not fun. So there I was that first day, all excited about the new TV (the old one couldn't take the pressure of moving house and committed suicide) but I couldn't turn the stupid thing on. I pressed every button on the remote and felt all around the screen for some kind of switch. I read the manual in English, Italian and French. Nothing. If only I'd paid more attention in my German lessons, I cursed. Sighing, and just as I was about to give up on the idea of seeing Murder She Wrote, I noticed that the TV was, in fact, unplugged. Opps. Blame it on the pregnancy hormones.
G will be rolling his eyes as he reads this. I didn't tell him as I thought it might cross the line between endearingly stupid and cronically dumb. What I really need isn't a toothpaste to stop my teeth from ageing but something to stop my brain from ageing.