I was at this marvellous olympic party as mentioned in my blog post yesterday – fraternising with gorgeous fit young things and feeling wrinkly, out of shape and old. There were lots of extreme shapes and sizes there obviously – incredibly tall swimmers and rowers and diminutive little gymnasts both male and female. The one key element that they all had in common was that they were young. Having said we were the ones behaving badly and having huge fun trying to take bites out of their gold medals and not caring about it.
For the most part I can live with getting older. I can live with bits falling off me as I attempt to run for the bus or that it appears I can no longer have a little dance with my children without accidentally farting. I can live with sitting next to my daughter on the beach (as long as I’m in a burkhini) or walking along the street with her being invisible. That is life (and of course I’m joking about farting on the dance floor).
BUT WHAT I CAN’T LIVE WITH IS THAT I HAVE SUDDENLY FOUND MYSELF AT A CROSSROADS AND DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. TOO MUCH PRESSURE.
I keep catching up with old friends or going to events where it is becoming increasingly obvious that women of my sort of age are dividing. Into two clear groups.
Looking younger and more gorgeous than I’ve seen them ever before and you comment about how great they are looking and they thank you and pretend they have been living in an oxygen tank for the last 5 years. Why are they really looking so good? After a few drinks (usually plied by me) it turns out it’s or various reasons including:-
Detox programmes involving litres of apple juice followed by espsom salts and something else that sounds revolting for a week in order to “pass” gall stones that are supposed to clear all toxins.
Extreme exercise regimes
Loads of time and effort
Looking a little old and haggard. Why?
Don’t give a shit.
Life is too short (although I guess it will be even shorter if they continue not to give a shit)
Drink & smoke too much.
What to do?
Easy as usual to sit on the fence getting splinters but I’m afraid you’ve got to go one way or the other. You can’t do a little of both. It doesn’t work. Once you’ve gone down the surgery route there is no going back.
At the moment it feels like all the gorgeous ones are part of a secret club I haven’t been invited to join. I can’t afford surgery and don’t think I really want it – what if it went wrong? Do I really care about looks as I get older? Should I even bother to try and compete? If I do then I am going to have to start working on them soon – take the point about my daughter suggesting I try and get help on the NHS for my veins. All I seem to be doing at the moment is going to different make up counters – yesterday I tried another counter – asking them to do my eye make-up in the hope that something miraculous was going to happen – 15 layers of hydrating cream, other cream, concealer cream powder, eyebrow stuff, liner, mascara, fixer and whatever else and they look exactly the same.
It’s all so depressing. Because it is really obvious now. Decisions have to be made and soon. Slightly I think that if you’re working too hard on your looks (AKA MAKING THE REST OF US LOOK REALLY BAD) then are you really truly happy?? Isn’t it a bit like spending your whole life acquiring bigger and better houses or being obsessed with cleaning? I do believe that if you’re unhappy it can show in your face anyway – calm and relaxed and the wrinkles smooth out a bit….shouldn’t we all therefore try and aim to be powerful within and not worry toooooooo much about our exterior beings? We are expected to keep caring what we look like but isn’t that just part of this dreadful celebrity culture we have acquired?
Or should I just shut up and start saving now?