Anyone who watched the movie ‘Splash’ in the 80s will remember that, when Daryl Hannah’s beautiful mermaid Madison emerged from the sea, she quickly transformed into an awkward, slippery wet fish in a bath. And one that needed a hoist to help her out of said bath tub at that.
But we’re thought of as such serene romantic creatures, aren’t we? Sitting in the sea, atop a smooth rock, combing our beautiful rose gold hair and being the envy of young girls all over the world who are so desperate to grow up to be a mermaid. Or a princess. Or an astronaut.
You see, being a woman is just like being a mermaid. Except not as wet and salty.
People have certain expectations of us. Young girls look up to our experience and confidence with awe. But it’s not always that straight forward. Inside, we are often flapping around like Madison the mermaid trying to get out of a New York bath tub.
We’re all like mermaids out of water. And yet we struggle to believe that all of us are feeling exactly the same at some point in our life. We are not alone!
As innocent young schoolgirls we looked up to the seniors who got to wear a bra and extra ear piercings. And have their hair permed. AND snog dreamy Joel from sixth form round the back of Mrs Harris’ classroom as we juniors looked on with a combination of searing jealousy and immense admiration.
Waaaahhhh why can’t I be 16 already!!
We were desperate to grow up and transform into these beautiful, mature and confident creatures complete with Wonderbra, boyfriend and monthly period (oh isn’t hindsight a funny thing).
Instead, Mrs Harris forced us to sit in class and watch an educational health video that was blatantly two decades old because it provided us with step-by-step instructions on how to wear belted sanitary towels. We already knew Lil-lets were the way to go because Just 17 magazine said so; and there was no way Erika Eleniak was wearing belted sanitary towels under that Baywatch swimsuit (I’m talking pre-Pammie Anderson for the younger readers among us.)
I still credit Ms Eleniak for the sheer determination I showed when trying to force my first applicator tampon up into the lesser explored depths of my virginal bits aged 11. There was no way a belted sanitary towel was accompanying me and my swimming cossie to Beverley baths that summer.
The idea of being something we’re not is so much more romantic and exciting than the reality. But then again, is romance all it’s cracked up to be?
I know I’d rather stamp my feet to Shane MacGowan and the Pogues than sway along to a big blubbering ballad with Michael Bolton and his flowing ‘90s locks.
The moment we step out of the sea we flap wildly (I’m hoping you’re starting to get the aquatic metaphors here – the sea is our comfort zone. Which is weird, given that I can’t go in the water without flapping but this isn’t just about me.)
As we now know (since being 16 is a distant memory coated with cringe and too many bottles of Castaway), that girl snogging dreamy Joel was probably flapping wildly about whether her snog was too dribbly. Or whether that Fray Bentos pie she had at dinnertime was about to repeat on her at a crucial moment. Or whether her Lil-let was about to pop like a champagne cork, causing a bloody deluge to spatter dreamy Joel’s bright white Reeboks.
We’ve all been there. We all know that reality isn’t what we once imagined it to be. So why do we still kid ourselves that serene creatures glide the earth, outperforming us in the bedroom, in the office and in the gym?
It’s all a myth. But why is the myth aspirational in the first place? Especially those ridiculous myths of the princess variety (personally, my dream as a young girl was to be John McEnroe. I can be serious, man!)
You know in reality (yes, I’m still going with the idea that mermaids exist), the mermaid isn’t a sign of serenity, she’s a sign of catastrophe. Of impending storms and crashing waves. So, whether they’re in the sea atop a smooth rock, or being hoisted out of a bath tub, mermaids are not really the epitome of serenity at all are they?
Nobody is.
We are aspiring to be something that doesn’t exist. And yet when we look at each other, we believe it does exist – because we try to pretend to each other that everything is OK. That we are not flapping wildly. Hence, when those juniors look up to us, they think that womanhood is a serene and sophisticated existence. But it’s all an act and a nod to the age-old idea of how women should behave.
Imagine the heartache we could all save the next generation if we spoke out openly about fanny farts in gym class, pissing our pants when we do the 5k park run and the fact that we wholeheartedly regret losing our virginity to dreamy Joel* from sixth form.
Turns out, he wasn’t that dreamy after all…
*Note - I made him up. It’s a concept, FFS!
If you fancy a bit more of my writing you might enjoy The Twenty Seven Club or Parklife - funny and nostalgic novels set in the 90s that also explore the more serious issue of mental health…but with a banging’ soundtrack.