I am feeling my age today. Or, at least, feeling the age that 40 used to be. You know when you were a kid and 40 seemed so OLD. Like, way past over the hill. Old. Well, that is how I am feeling today. I haven’t been 100% well-feeling for the last week or so and am just feeling fat and fed up and forty. Which, I reiterate, is not old. But today it feels it. Wow, that’s a lot of “feels” all in one paragraph…
Someone mentioned a song in the charts today and I had no idea what they were talking about. Hadn’t even heard of the singer. I used to be all up in the music scene. I knew who was who and what was what. Now, I’d be lucky to be able to name half of the artists in the top 40. Which makes me feel old. Because I swore blind I would never be one of those old fuddy-duddies who dissed new music and only listened to music from their own era. But I am becoming that way. I cling to the fact that I like and appreciate Lady Gaga – as soon as I start not understanding or liking her, I am in trouble and may as well order myself a Zimmer Frame.
Signs I am one step away from the old people’s home
As I was having physio this week, I looked up at my very attractive-but-far-too-young-for-me physiotherapist, noticing he had a couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face. I almost reached up to stroke his face and comment that he looked handsome. Which would have been inappropriate and weird. Worse still was the fact that the action was almost like maternal affection, rather than a romantic / flirtatious gesture.
I am in bed before 10.30 most nights.
I prefer staying in than going out.
I have started to remark (a lot) that music on the radio “these days” is “rubbish”.
I have trouble understanding advertising.
The other night, at my cousin’s rowdy 40th Birthday party, I was standing in a corner drinking a cup of tea, wishing someone would turn the music down.
I have started calling people in their twenties “kids”.
I don’t know half of the celebrities that appear in magazines.
I have the beginnings of a bunion.
The cold weather makes me ache.
I have a fine collection of hot water bottles. And use them.
I am doing a lot of squinting when trying to read things. My arms are no longer long enough to hold objects far enough from my face to read them accurately.
When my nephews and nieces ask me how old I am and I tell them “Old”, they believe me.
I don’t know the names of any of the One Direction dudes or what they sing.
I think Miley Cyrus has lost the plot and needs a good talking to. And some clothes.
I am fighting a losing battle with the strands of grey in my hair.
I wonder where manners and good grammar have disappeared to.
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At the end of the day, I am NOT old. And if I am, well then, I am lucky to be so. Not everyone gets the chance. But today, I would like to feel just a little younger, a little less creaky and be able to sing along with at least half of the top ten songs in the charts. And not turn the volume down.
Hope you are all feeling young and spritely today. If not, join me in a cup of tea and quick Nanna-nap and start again tomorrow.