Not all heroes wear capes. Unless it is a therapy cape.
We were fiddling around wasting time and we found a writer on Twitter called Wendy Molyneux who said she was going to write a film called Spider Ma’am. The premise being that Spider Ma’am is a grown-up woman who gets bitten by a radioactive spider and develops all the ensuing powers but just decides to keep the whole furore to herself, because the diary is looking pretty full this week and she just doesn’t have the bandwidth for all the climbing buildings shit. She doesn’t think that all-in-one with mask combo would do her any favours plus it’s clearly polyester so imagine the sweat. It’s basically a morphsuit – picture the claustrophobia and the hair disaster. Also it’s nearly a gimp suit and Spider Ma’am is in no way in the market for any of that shit. So Spider Ma’am is no way interested in great power or great responsibility. She would like a stronger pelvic floor please and some sense of control over her finances. So if the radioactive bite can do that then fine, but otherwise we shall never speak of it again. Nothing to see here. So, naturally, it got us thinking about other Midult superheroes…
I wonder where my phone is. I wonder why I’m always too hot or too cold. I wonder if I’ll ever throw away all the knickers I hate which is 90% of my knickers. I wonder what people mean when they say, ‘mix and match your clothes to create new outfits.’ I wonder why everyone is so annoying. I wonder if it’s me. I wonder if I care that it’s me. I wonder if these supplements are doing anything. I wonder what you can actually do about bra bulges. I wonder if I’ll ever ‘forget to eat.’ I wonder if I’ve forgotten how to flirt. I wonder what the point of me is. And no, I’m not getting changed in that phone box. I’m an adult woman and I NEED MY SPACE.
Ah yes, Bat Ma’am is most active at night when she creeps around the house between the hours of 2am and 5am. She can’t really handle daylight – partly because she’s exhausted and partly because her face seems to be slightly falling off. The bat mobile is covered in mud and the interior is so dirty and covered in matter that it may have come to life and developed an IQ of its own. The batphone is inactive. Do not call Bat Ma’am. She will take a very dim view. Text her. Even if you are sitting next to her on the sofa it is safer to text her than to talk to her as she is very tired. And do not send voice notes. Bat Ma’am needs you to know that voice notes are as aggressive as voicemails. She never takes off her therapy cape. It keeps getting caught in doorhandles but it’s the only thing that makes her feel safe.
Erm. Well. What it says on the tin. Only interested in talking to her cats and about her cats. Instagram? All cats. Affection reserved only for cats. Cat calendars. Cat screensaver. Cats.
The Incredible Sulk
Just fuck off. It’s not me it’s you. I just can’t. Shut the door on the way out. Enough. Not interested. Finally pushed me to the end of my tether. And you should be afraid because this doesn’t happen very often. You won’t like me when I’m angry. But I’m not even angry. I’m not hurt. I’m just done. No more of my energy will be wasted on you.
Well, she’s just started cold water swimming. Or she may be trying to reverse the ageing process by drinking gallons of water. Or she’s retaining a lot of water. We don’t think this one will get commissioned.
Conan the Bar-bear-ee-ma’am
She’s had a bad day. She is to be avoided. She is ready to unleash hell. She is feeling medieval. Avoid Conan he Bar-bear-ee-ma’am.
She’s very hairy these days. Full beard. Pelt on legs. Smashing the patriarchy by growing her armpit hair. Her toenails alone could take you out because she hasn’t had time for a pedicure since August. She’s a dangerous loner. She usually goes into retirement during the summer months but this summer all bets are off.