What the hell is going on here.. Seriously I mean it.. In the year since I started this blog boring everyone with my daily mishaps and hormone induced changes I’m here to tell you it’s still going on. I thought it would stop at a certain point.. but oh no.. mother nature just keeps knocking it out of the park..
Not longer can I read the messages on my phone with a selfie stick my optician told me, with some glee I might add, that I needed some ‘bifocals’ I kid you not.. feckin bifocals..
Now every single piece of clothing I have is stretchy. Which doesn’t stop me looking like an egg. My arse is where my belly should be. It’s true my arse is lovely and flat, well that’s not quite true, it’s simply sagging. When I undress both my arse cheeks rush for the back of my knees and just hang there, it seems I need to be doing squats according my sons.
My boobs are now so big that I was directed last week to the ‘Plus Size’ section in M&S when I asked about a DD size. When I made my way reluctantly to the ‘Plus Size’ section I was offered a minimiser bra. ‘Just so you don’t look so big’ the annoyingly cheerful shop assistant beamed at me. Yes she bloody ‘beamed’ with enthusiasm at me,
Talking of boobs when I sleep my nipples rest cosily in my armpits, only now if I get out of bed quickly they both slap together making a wonderful yet horrifying clapping noise. It’d like a round of applause for getting up.
The facial hair has actually gone feral and my interest is piqued every time someone talks about hair removal or laser treatment. I never leave the house with a tweezers.
I’m invisible to the younger generations, they see me on the periphery, but they don’t actually see me. When they are forced to engage with me they usually say things like ‘You’re funny for an awlwan’ or ‘I’d like to be like you when I’m much older’ or my particular favourite ‘You’d look great if you had a facelift’
So my poor body is surrendering to the ravages of time and there’s nothing I can do about it.
So is there an up side to growing older.
There are several to be honest.
I’m comfortably in my skin. Even if I would look great with a Facelift.
I’m more me, ok ok I know it sounds daft of American. But the sad truth is I’m me now, before I was aware of ‘other people’s’ opinion of me so I often stayed quiet in peoples company. Now I witter endlessly and I love it, if you don’t, that’s unfortunate and I care not a jot.
I know when people are being unkind and rude it’s their problem, it’s not me or my problem. But sometimes, if someone is being unkind I do call them out on it. I’m so feckin brave I don’t recgonise myself sometimes. ‘Tis a fact.
I’m financially secure. My mother’s advice to all of us ‘Always have your own money’
I love my sisters despite the fact we are so different.. one organises me and the other tells me to relax I’m not sure the impact I have on either of them but it doesn’t matter. Now in my middle age I’m assured of their love for me and mine for them. My brother on the other hand just talks about football, who know Leeds Utd were still a football team.
I’m not afraid to argue or to put forward my point of view although it often differs with others.
Getting older is comfortably, it’s not easy, nor is it for the faint hearted, but there’s a comfort and confidence that comes with it that I wouldn’t change.
The Joy of Getting Older