The National Car Test centre in Naas turned out to be an interesting place last week. The men who check out the vehicles looked like they were each attempting a world record. There was a ridiculously tall mechanic, a ridiculously small mechanic and another with more tattoos and piercings than anyone on Miami Ink. They came and went as I sat in the waiting room. I was bringing the old jalopy in for another check over after it failed the initial test miserably. After a few minutes, a woman I know from town, Lynne, came in and sat beside me looking flustered. “Did your car fail?” I asked her. “No, I’m going through the menopause” she replied. Poor woman. She was hot and bothered before she had even got the results of the car test.
She told me in a very loud whisper all about it. “I’ve been so moody” she began, looking left and right to make sure that the mechanics weren’t listening. “I was getting really hot and sweaty at night too” she continued, "No sex drive at all!” she finished up. I opened a packet of custard creams that I happened to have in my bag and offered her one. They are my solution to most of the world's problems. Lynne shook her head. “No thanks. I have been putting on weight too which doesn’t help matters". I nodded sympathetically; I have eaten far too many biscuits this year.
“Guess what I have done?” I couldn't begin to imagine. “I got a magnet,” she pointed downward. “I’m wearing a magnet in my knickers. What do you think of that?” I almost choked on my second biscuit. “In your knickers? Are you sure that is where it is supposed to go?” I asked, worried that she may not have read the small print right in her state of hormonal confusion. “Yes. Right here, in the front of my knickers. You wouldn’t know it was there at all would you? I can’t even feel it. It just sits there all day.” The very tall mechanic walked by carrying a bag of spanners. I winced expecting the whole lot suddenly shot out and stuck to the front of Linda's jeans. They didn't.
"Guess who is sleeping at night? I’m still getting the night sweats but not half as bad and I lost a tiny bit of weight too - a nice bonus.” She told me that the magnet is the size of a jammy dodger biscuit and has been tested successfully all over the world. The experts don’t know exactly why it works for some women but it does. “It has changed my life” Lynne went on in the NCT waiting room. “And it is completely harmless. They use them on horses too” she continued. Horses in magnetic knickers? Now I was completely lost.
So far I have not experienced any signs or symptoms of the menopause. I am one of those lucky women who has had the Mirena Coil in for years and benefited hugely from it. My own mother and millions like her had hysterectomies in their forties, but those days have gone now thanks to the coil and the magical way that it sorts out those fluctuating hormones. I was hoping that it would guide me through the menopause too. If it doesn’t, perhaps the magnet could be an option. Lynne certainly looked great.
My car passed the NCT at the second time round. The most pierced mechanic gave me the certificate and I ran out of the building, heading out for a quick grocery shop before going home. I decided to invite magnetic Lynne round for coffee the following week. As I pushed my trolley around Dunnes I got to thinking about the magnet and potential hazards of wearing one in your underwear. Could it set off the alarm at the airport, might it show up on the high tech body scanner machines that they have? Might they mistake the magnet as being a component of a bomb? Might you be accused of being a terrorist?
I sent her a text a few days later. "Coffee?” I asked. “Yes” she replied. Another from me: “Should I hide the cutlery? Wouldn’t want to trigger off the magnet.” Another from her: “Don’t joke, just hung washing over the metal clothes airer - got totally stuck to it”
I suggest that anyone wearing such a magnet should treat themselves to a wooden airer. Safety first and all that.
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