I am a Strong Woman

I went to the Mind Body and Soul exhibiiton this weekend at Olympia 2. I went with the right person, my very shrewd friend and fellow author Julia Bell. Julia was going for reserch purposes. I don’t really know why I went. Everything was there, everything and everyone from Christian Evangelists to Scientologists selling ‘personality tests’. Also a firm of solicitors who specialised in representing practitioners of every type of new age practice and cure from bird-shit face masks to muscle-pounding massage eye masks (no, really.)

Yeesh. There was a stage with some grey-haired wildwomen drumming and singing.  “I am a strong woman.”  They sang this over and over again, quite a catchy tune. Weirdly, lots of men had congregated around them and were  chanting these words too.

There were people selling juicers for £400, photos of your aura, board games which lead players to enlightenment, tarot readings, ‘conscious’ chocolate, and many, many ways to relieve stress. Eventually, I bought a head scratcher. It looks like a big bouncy spidery fork. You rake it along your scalp and it induces pleaure akin to orgasm.

We passed one stall which sold state-of-the-art crackers made of millett.

“Oh, yeah,” said the girl on the stall. “I did detox before I went raw. I’ve been raw for six months now. 80 per cent raw.”

Julia and I sniggered. Being ‘raw’ is the height of vogue. ‘Raw’ is short for raw food. The woman was boasting about just how fashionable she was around her diet.

“Man has always needed and quested for spiritual guidance,” I said to Julia. If this fayre was 2000 years ago, we’d be wondering through just as many ridiculous stalls, except they wouldn’t be imports from the East. They’d all be Celtic, and Pagan.” 

But humans weren’t so stessed then. So that blows that theory. I do worry about the stress thing. I’d say seven out of every ten stalls were trying to sell a cure for it. Books on how to beat it, or contraptions or potions which would banish it. I’m a little bit tubby these days. I have an ear ache. But stress?

Oh, no, no, no.

I’m not sure if stress is a writer’s ailment. I get writer’s arse. My eyes are going.  But stress?  Oh no, no.

As we left the chanting got louder and louder and the drums wilder and wilder. I am a strong woman, I am a strong woman.

Somehow, I didn’t believe them.

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~ by moniqueroffey on October 4, 2009.

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