Some changes – the boobs, the emotional jags, the better quality hair – are pretty much as expected. Others, like the muscle loss, a little less so: but they tend to make sense after the event.
And some still have the ability to bemuse and puzzle.
I mean: this can’t be a transition thing. Can’t be anything to do with transition. Can it?
But i’ve always been a good whistler. Tuneful, though i know that’s only my view of it. Probably highly annoying to anyone else in earshot. Still: i could whistle loud, long and most of my way up and down a scale.
When, emulating th deightful Lauren Bacall, i just put my lips together and…nothing came out. Dry, was my first reaction.
I licked – and tried again. Nope. A sort of hissing crossed with an intermittent whistle. Which was pretty much it for the best part of the two or three minutes, on and off, that i tried to regain my former prowess in the noble art of sifflage.
Co-incidence? Maybe. Temporary interlude? Not so maybe, as throughout the evening, i returned surreptitiously every so often, the way one returns to a particularly irritating scab, to my less than successsful lip-pursing.
Other experience would be…interesting. I’d always assumed that the “boys whistle, girls don’t” thing was pretty much pure culture: mostly about what was considered ladylike and what not.
But while there are various skills i’ve had to learn over the last few years,and some i’ve let go of, this most definitely is not one of them.
Which leaves me floudnering and theorising. Some deep-seated subconscious unlearning? Possible: but if so, why for this and,asfar as i can tell, noting much else.
Muscle waste? Perhaps…though i’d not have said that women were endowed with any obvious labial weakness. Or slight fat re-distribution? That, actually, feels the most plausible.
But its a curious one. definitely.