I was so much younger when I wrote this (!) and I forgot to post it I assume. I'm turning 61 this year. Madness.
I'm obviously obsessed with age and need to get over it. So I will post this and put the subject to bed once and for all. Except I totally agree with what I said below. I'll underline it for you so you know what I'm on about.
Getting older ain't for wimps!
I know there's no alternative to it and it comes to all of us but I just think it's so unfair that we don't all age at more or less the same time.
I know, that's not plausible and clearly I haven't thought that through properly but I'm trying to make a point here.
Just as the realization is dawning that you are getting past your sell by date, comes the knowledge that the world is full of younger and much more beautiful people.
Who said the world belonged to them?
If they market any products to people my age then it's for something health, diet, teeth, bladder, arthritis, depression, depends, dysfunction, or dental fixative related.
Young people get funky music, sexy men, with no shirts on to boot, gorgeous models with funky clothes and shiny, shiny hair, perfect teeth and perky tits.
OK I know they're not my demographic any more but still.
I'M NOT DEAD YET!
Sorry, was I yelling?
I don't feel any different to those younger people.
It's just on the OUTSIDE that we.... er differ.
Inside, I'm still vibrant.
As long as I don't forget to exercise regularly, eat fish and greens, take my Vitamins every morning, noon and night, have my bones scanned yearly, my breasts squashed regularly and my insides probed with scopes now and again and I'm in bed by 10, not forgetting to pee before I go.
I'm not THAT old.
Okay, I'm 59 this year which probably seems ancient to YOU, but God help me, when I'm 70 I'm going to yearn for this age.
I look in the mirror and thankfully my eyesight has declined with my looks so I'm not that aware. Except last week when I was being tailed by a woman across the aisle in the department store. Every time I looked up she looked back at me. She was middle aged and tired looking, overweight and quite drab! JEEBUS! It was me. I was walking past the same mirror. I wanted to lie down and die right there in the store. Cry in fact. How could this happen? And, more importantly, When?
Two weeks ago I went to enrol myself and a friend in an aerobics class. I dashed in after work and spoke to the fitness centre supervisor; filled out the forms, gave him my credit card and just before he processed it he looked up at me as if for the first time and said, "Is this a normal membership, or do you want the senior's rate?'"
My heart stopped!
There was a rush of blood to my ears and a bloodcurdling scream threatened to leave my body.
Holding myself in check I pondered whether he was referring to the 55 plus senior. They call it grey power these days. AND though I don't even have any grey hair thank you very much, I was willing to settle for that at this point.
I tried to keep my voice level and portray a calmness I wasn't feeling. "It depends. What age is senior here then?'
"65 and over" he replied matter of factly.
You know that sound effect in the movies when the same words repeat over and over like a bad echo?
that's what I heard.
65! 65! 65! 65!!!!!!
(like on Revolution Number 9 by The Beatles. Number 9, Number 9, Number 9.)
I clutched the edge of his desk to prevent me from leaping across it and strangling him.
How dare he?
How could he?
I have NEVER been so insulted!
Then I choked back a tear.
"No." I said quietly as he processed my credit card. "Just the NORMAL membership."
See, not only am I old, I'm not even NORMAL anymore.
Nowadays I look at Judy Dench with a new found respect. Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep, Sharon Osbourne, women of my age. I have to look to them to carry the torch.
My boss turned 60 last year and she has just paid 9 THOUSAND DOLLARS for new teeth. She's had her hair dyed and her moles blasted off her face, she's lost 20 lbs and wears nicer clothes. She's obviously afraid, vewy vewy afwaid.