Mrs Button, who has been putting up with working with me for almost 10 years, is contemplating a hobby as she plummets into her late-middle 30s and realises that it’s time to take life by the scruff of its neck.
It started with that peculiar documentary about the rock choirs full of middle-aged people dancing about in shopping centres, and morphed into an ambition to join the Womens Institute. I’m sure we’ll hear more as time puddles on and she starts bringing scones to morning coffee.
But we’ll not pre-empt; that’s not what this post is about, really.
It’s about the fact that the WI website looked funky. For a second, when I looked in last night, I though “Oh, they’ve gone ever so up-to-the-minute”
And then I realised that they haven’t really. It’s just me that’s suddenly become ancient.
All around me, there are other small signals that I am getting old.
1 – I worry about putting itunes on pause for too long. Something to do with stretching the cassette and wearing it out.
2 – I can’t stay in bed. Until fairly recently, I’d fairly regularly spend at least one weekend day laid in until lunchtime. Now I feel I’ve wasted the day if I’m not up and at it by eight thirty.
3 – Last time I dyed my hair, it occurred to me that I no longer do it to perk up the colour. I now do it to hide the grey.
4 – I’m increasingly walking into rooms, cupboards and so on and forgotten what I’ve come in for. I’ve taken to making myself a note and carrying it with me.
5- I ache all the time. Often in places where I was never even conscious of having a place before.
I’m beginning to wonder whether there’s a special potion for the over 40s. Something that I’ll perhaps receive a consignment of on my birthday. A secret that I can’t be told until then.
Or whether people of my age just manage to plaster a smile on, put up with it and pretend it’s just a few aches and pains. Better that, I guess, than giving in to it all just when life’s supposed to be properly beginning.
Aging isn’t real! It’s all in your head! I’ve been 17 years old for mor than 44 years now, you should stop worrying and get out and LIVE! or lay in bed luxuriating in living if that is what you feel like doing IMHO.
I actually spend about 30% of my time just laughing at myself for getting old – but I’m trying to step it up a bit on the ‘living’ thing too!
Stopping by for the first time – no, unfortunately no secret potion, unless they just aren’t telling me about it!
Hello – thank you for visiting. I sometimes feel so in need of something magical to perk me up a bit. But then I have a feeling that this coming year is going to be about challenging myself and finding other bits of magic!
the image suits the commentary perfectly
I thought so too. I’ve started using the creative commons pictures on flickr to illustrate some of my writing.
(Just need to combine that with getting back to my own photography project!).
Oh, I hear ya. And can we just talk about the mole that has never grown hair before but last year started growing one? Gross. And depressing.
lol – Ah Yes, I forgot the mole. And other weird hairs that just seem to spring from nowhere! I keep tweezers by the bathroom mirror now…
I am ten years older than you and have to say The 40’s aren’t bad. Wait ’til you are 49. Little things I’ve noticed in the past year – I can’t see up close without cheaters (bifocal contacts was the best thing I’ve purchased in a while, I have to wear comfortable shoes, belly fat (you will hate it), I am more prone to sports injuries – shoulder injury took 6 months to heal, not to mention everything that comes with perimenopause – insomnia, night sweats and hot flashes. Enjoy your 40’s you have a lot of good years left. I stopped sleeping in on Saturdays when I was about your age too; mostly because I quit going out. Which wasn’t a bad thing.
Stopping in from the tea party.
lol – I’m really not looking forward to all of this. Feel I have enough to contend with already!
Someone took a picture of the back of my head the other day. I knew I had grey hairs growing on the side of my head but I had no idea they had infiltrated and spread across my whole head.
I was shell shocked. The only thing I could think of was to get a nearby ten year old to colour them in with a black permanent marker.
I’m 40 in November.
lol – It’s not actually the colour gray that I mind all that much. It’s that gray hairs have a totally different texture – like little wires. Horrid!
I have two more weeks to go till 40. Not liking this final countdown at all. How did this possibly, possibly happen to us?