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Saggy arms and wobbly thighs, it's all part of my new IFTA image

MY name is Anna. I am 42 years of age. I have arms that sag and thighs that wobble. I have a stomach that bounces and a chin that gravity is doing its very utmost to pull towards the floor.

I am also off to the IFTAs this Saturday, and I need a dress that will adjust all of the above so that I look like January Jones.

I am excited now, but on Thursday I will look into my wardrobe, wail "I have nothing to wear" and sit on the bed and have a tiny little cry.

A sort of pretend cry, but still a cry.

On Friday, I will ask Dearbhla to sit down beside me and I will tell her I don't want to go to the IFTAs, and she will have to persuade me for an hour that I have to go and that I will have fun.

Actually – I have a choice of four dresses at home but all of them are sleeveless.

I don't want to do sleeveless anymore.

I want something to cover the tops of my arms, yet I don't want to look like Glenn Close.

I have been scouring the websites of all the shops that do evening wear, and all I see are pictures of 20-something models, standing tall in their size 8 frame, looking smug and lanky.

I've been to the IFTAs before and have worn various ensembles –but those were the days when I was young, free and really didn't give a damn about the dress code.

One year I wore a white fitted suit. I know! How Angelina Jolie of me! I had hair extensions also, tied back into a long pony tail. It was very rock 'n' roll.

Another year, I wore a colourful sequinned dress – and hopped up onto the stage with my co-presenters of The Afternoon Show. We was soooo hip ... .

This year, I have emailed three shops asking for a subdued coloured dress. Ideally black.

 

Mummy

This year, even though I am nominated for an award for producing Room To Improve – I want to sink into the background.

It's Tuesday. There's just four days to go until the IFTAs.

By the sounds of what I have been saying, you might think I'm likely to turn up covered head to toe in material, like a mummy.

But actually I won't. I'll accept that the tummy, arms, legs and chin are not what they used to be and swan in like I own that red carpet.

Get me a drink – quick!


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