As I approach my 50th birthday (OK I know I’m only forty-seven but it feels like I’m hurtling towards old age) I’ve started thinking about what this means in terms of looks, attitude and my life in general.
Inside I still feel like an 18 year-old but the mirror tells a different story.
So what does this stage in my life mean to me?
MY LIFE AS IT IS RIGHT NOW
At last I’ve taken it in to my own hands to do what I really want to do - write. All the bad luck that led to the ultimate publication of my book has been put aside and I’m following the path I believe to be the right one for now. I’ve got great support from other like-minded women - we call ourselves ‘The Fabulous Feisty Indies.’ Soon, I’ll be a ‘Fabulous Feisty Fifty Indie’ and that feels good!
On the downside, there are the wrinkles! I’m quite fortunate to have a slightly chubby face so they don’t show too much - but they can’t hide from me! And you can keep your Botox and your rip off creams - Nivea has always been kind to me and I’m quite happy to continue allowing it to sooth my wrinkles to the grave.
My face takes much longer to wake up in the morning than it used to. My body might be up and rearing to go but the face takes more time to snap back. Catch me at about 7pm and that’s probably as good as it gets!
Hairs and whiskers grow in the most ridiculous places. It’s a constant battle seeking them out and plucking them in their prime. And they’re usually black! I’m fair so where’s the logic, Mother Nature?
Hopefully the end of the monthly do-da’s will soon be in sight. I have no intention of having more children so why do I need to continue with the inconvenience? Sorry marketeers, but no I don’t ‘Have a Happy Period’ - do you really know anyone who does? HRT? No thanks, ageing (although not nice) is a fact of life - if you’re lucky enough to be alive, accept it.
I now need to wear reading glasses. I can see for miles and read bus numbers or street signs like the Bionic Woman but, if you catch me in Sainsbury’s trying to read the small print on a jar, I’m like Mr Magoo. I guess it’s not too bad to have got this far in life without deterioration so I’m not moaning. Oh, and I like to think they make me look more like a writer! Must be the actress in me.
I don’t suffer fools gladly anymore. I’ve spent much of my life either putting up and shutting up or having one massive blow-up. Now I consider things more carefully and follow my heart. I have to be true to myself or I’m of no use to anyone else.
I need to start considering that yoga may not be enough to keep all these body changes in order. I’ll never be seen with Joggers’ Nipple as I set off on a five mile sprint or ‘going for the burn’ in an aerobics class (been there, done that and boy does that show my age) but I need to start thinking about my options.
I’m waiting for my Goddaughter to get slightly older so that she can come shopping with me. Middle-aged women need the guidance of daughters and she’s the nearest I’ve got - there’s only so much input hubbie and son can give me. And shopping with friends the same age doesn’t help - how do we know we’re not all doing it wrong? I don’t want to end up in a posse of fogies wearing Crimplene stretch-pants and pretty little blouses, topped off with blue-rinse perms.
I have to be more of a ‘grown-up’ when discussing my son’s education with his teachers. How did I get to have a fifteen year old son? Talk of ‘A’levels and Uni are terrifying. Wasn’t it only yesterday that that was me?
The best news about a milestone birthday is a PARTY! So, I’m already planning who, what, where and when. Hubbie and I will also have been married for twenty years the year I hit 50 so I think it should be quite a biggie. Of course by then, I’ll have at least three best sellers under my belt, the body of Kylie and the smooth skin of Jane Fonda (Nivea will have added a miraculous ingredient).
Yeah … 50… bring it on!
Have you checked out my debut novel yet? ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is available on Amazon for Kindle or PC. Look at my reviews and decide for yourself. Now also in paperback at Lulu.