The Times Magazine 7Spinal column Melanie Reid
‘I’m wearing cashmere sweaters, using designer
moisturiser and – at long last – treating myself ’
o cheer myself
up, and because
my friend Carrie
bullied me, I am
trying to be less
hairshirted.
Time to relax
the self-imposed
austerity. Time to reward myself.
Time to stop saving stuff “for
best”. Time – admit it – to slay
the tramp.
About four months ago, with
winter looming, I bought myself
two luxury jumpers. Big, dark,
funnel-necked, easy to wear.
Immediate go-to outfits if
I needed to be smart and warm.
When they arrived I looked at
them, decided they were far too
nice to wear, and left them in
their tissue paper and posh
cardboard boxes in my office.
Then, for Christmas, I was
given two more beautiful jumpers.
I folded them as reverentially
as I’m able to and placed them
on top of the boxed ones, then
rolled back a pace to admire
an impressive pile of things I
wouldn’t touch for at least a year.
Because of course I’ve got far
too many older things to wear out
first. Every morning I put on the
uniform of disability, a world in
which you are always cold (unless
you’re suddenly too hot), no one
notices what you wear anyway,
and functionality is the only
criterion. Layers of thermal and
cotton long-sleeved T-shirts, two
layers of cashmere so holey that
the shredded cuffs dangle in my
food and my hands go through
the armpits or the elbows when
I’m putting them on. NB I’m
especially proud of the holes
below each shoulder blade, where
I brace against the wheelchair
seatback. Kind of military
service honours.Uniform for a life sentence.
It’s comfy, I don’t smell and,
anyway, who the hell cares what
I look like.
Then Carrie peered at me
through a Whatsapp video call.
“What are you saving this new
stuff for?” she demanded. “The
charity shop?” She’s imperious.
Nobody, she told me sternly, is
going to want it on my demise.
Certainly not Dave and Doug.
“Wear it!” She told me she was
done with saving stuff for best.
The concept didn’t exist. It was
a hangover from our upbringing.
Best was now, being alive, enjoying
nice possessions. It was something
we had to do for ourselves.In that spirit, she had started
using her finest china, making
tea in a silver teapot, putting
on precious earrings every day,
wearing her best coat to the
supermarket. Inspired, I have
made my first moves. Small but
fairly symbolic and – please don’t
laugh – really hard for me.
After my accident, what there
was of my ego disappeared. When
you are suddenly struck with
disability in middle age, your
body changed irrevocably, it is a
massive psychological challenge
to value yourself. You know that
this is the new you, but you find
yourself ugly and helpless and
MURDO MACLEOD very hard to like or nurture. Be
T
kind to yourself? Love yourself? I
hated myself. I’ve punished myself
ever since for the pain I caused,
both to me and my family.
Small moves, then. Like
retraining a suspicious old horse.
Day one, I took some lovely
Molton Brown hand wash, which
I had bought as a spare gift, and
put it in my bathroom. For me.
Every time I use it, although it
feels transgressive, a waste,
the smell makes me very happy.
Day two, I took my gorgeous
shearling gilet from where it’s
hung practically untouched for
two years since Dave gave it to
me, and took it through to the
bedroom. Just to get used to the
idea. Day three, I retrieved my
giant bone china cup with pink
roses from a high cupboard and
started using it. Day four, I started
putting on designer moisturiser- bought but never used – again.
And day five, well, that’s as
I write, and I’m proud to say I’m
sitting here in a fabulous new
jumper, wearing my caramel
and cream sheep fleece, feeling
dressed up enough to go for a
WAGs’ lunch. I’m utterly terrified
of spilling soup on the wool,
marking the fleece with oil,
staining the jumper. But I’m
wearing them.
These are early days, and
I may regress, but it does feel fun.
Dave, who keeps nothing for best,
is pleased. The holey cashmeres
have been washed and hang
stringily from the pulley. Am
I really ready to throw them out?
They might be useful. You never
know. I decide to think about it
for a day or two. Small steps. n
@Mel_ReidTimes
Melanie Reid is tetraplegic after
breaking her neck and back in
a riding accident in April 2010