Meet Margot.
She’s got it all: a loving boyfriend, a roof over her head, her health, a career. But increasingly, she feels like she’s had enough. Enough of the daily grind, enough of corporate life, but most especially, enough of her own self. Whilst Margot’s relationship with her own body has always been painful, she has grown to truly hate her own form, spending hours of each day scrutinising and maintaining her appearance and finding herself lacking.
Until suddenly, things start to change. Margot feels distinctly different. Her body and behaviour evolve, as does her mindset. Dysmorphia takes on new meaning.
And then, in the space of one terrible night, she crosses a threshold she can never return from…
This newest short story from Bram Stoker and British Fantasy Award nominated author Gemma Amor is Ginger Snaps for the perimenopausal, a middle-aged werewolf tale with a difference. Oh, and there’s a fox, too.
Dark bleatings, my feral tribe! I’m making my way through the Gemma Amor books that were released before I found here, and up first is this short/novelette, which made me throw a triumphant fist in the air but also gag a little bit.
Margot is a really relatable protagonist for me. I’m of a similar age and when she’s scrutinising everything about herself and her appearance, that was unfortunately familiar to me, as I’m sure it is for many. When I was younger, I spent way too much time (because I was convinced that my value to everyone else was only really in my appearance) worrying about my weight and also my personal style. It was vain, sure, but it came more from a place of just wanting to fit in and be accepted, instead of being viewed as ugly. I left the house ONCE without eyeliner on when I was eighteen, and two of my own friends drove past me and took the time to slow down to screech the song ‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’ at me. They found it hilarious, I found it cemented proof that I was too ugly to ever leave the house again just in my natural face. My efforts on looking nice weren’t so much to attract people as to just prevent being ridiculed.
I’m more comfortable with myself now but have noticed as I age that I find weirdly specific things to still criticise myself over, and I wonder if it would even occur to me to do so if we weren’t constantly hammered by beauty standards. This is something that our protagonist, Margot, really embodies. Life is pretty settled for her, but she’s a woman so she’ll never be enough, will she? If she’s happy in her relationship then there’ll be some standard at work she can’t meet, or some social situation she isn’t at ease in, or something she deems ugly about herself that nags.
One day, she just starts letting all of it go. She’s fed up and just wants to be comfortable. She abandons heels and wears comfortable clothes to work (to have it immediately commented on, which is totally believable to me because when I worked at a supermarket where my appearance was irrelevant, a co-worker constantly insisted I needed a spray tan because I was too pale). She has a nice partner that actually cares about her that is happy with the less dolled up version of her, but the more she abandons any outside expectations, the more potential problems this causes for others.
This was such a tricky one, and for that reason, way more interesting than the average story about a woman coming into her own and shrugging off the expectations of others. Margot doesn’t just decide to go casual, she decides to abandon showering. She doesn’t just decide she’s not making the effort for silly things, but reassesses where she directs her energy entirely, which isn’t towards her partner at all.
I was trapped between feeling pleased that she was embracing her true self, and wondering where the line between truth and selfishness is. At what point should you question your own lack of hygiene, and for whom? At what point are you no longer just exploring yourself, but being so negligent towards someone you apparently love that it borders on mistreatment?
Margot isn’t at all a bad person, you see, but she’s on a journey that I was fascinated by but don’t think I could follow. This is one of the many things I loved about this story, because rather than the author presenting us with the kind of woman who is effortlessly beautiful and would look like a supermodel even wearing a binbag, she doesn’t shy away from making this character somewhat repulsive.
Overall, it’s a quick but awe-inspiring read and one of the more interesting takes on self-transformation and personal evolution that I’ve ever read.
I wholeheartedly recommend it! If you’d like to check out the book or the author, I’ve popped some links below for you:
Bleeeat!
Happy Goat Horror 
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