This morning started like this:
Me ‘do I look older?’
Him ‘older than what?’
Me ‘my skin. Everyone my age has botox’
Him ‘they don’t look any better for it’
Me ‘but if I don’t have it will I look aged and haggard and everyone else looks stretched?’
Him ‘I see your point. Stay you though’
You see, that she is fast approaching. Hurtling towards me like there’s no tomorrow. Remember the opening credits to Madmen? The suit free falling to uncertainty? Well that’s me.
It’s not that I’m scared of growing, living, experiencing…it’s the way it makes my body feel and look.

There was another conversation…
Me ‘do I keep fit enough?’
Him ‘yeah, I’d say two classes, running and long dogs walks each week keep you fit. You eat healthy’
Me ‘ some people do classes daily. Sometimes twice daily’
Him ‘hmmm’, maybe stop worrying about what everyone else does and concentrate on yourself’ (Him is full of sage advice). That’s the other thing; I worry I’m not doing enough. Reading the social media feed I often angst over how ‘others’ seem to glide, wrinkle free, through life. Social calendars jammed; packed with weekends away, parties, holidays and meals out – all without worrying about standing out like a sore thumb, or the state of their bank balance. Just to go to the cinema I have to factor so many scenarios and outcomes in I end up putting it off through exhaustion!!

Now, at this point it is worth mentioning New Years Resolution number 1: To worry less.
Yes, maybe you haven’t worked it out but I’m a worrier. Every little thing from whether we’ll be warm enough without coats to wondering how to solve the Donald Trump situation unfolding over the Atlantic (yes, not my problem I know). I also worry about Theresa May, who I’m not keen on, but I’m not liking the negative press she’s getting for holding Trumps hand and inviting him for tea – she’s just being polite and nice like us Brits have been brought up to be. It’s basic manners!! Anyway, I digress. Worrying should be a thing of my past along with flared white jeans (don’t ask) and my shiny silver raving back pack. Therefore, this morning I laid guilt (yes, that too) and worry to one side and pleased my ageing self…

So, instead of running this morning, I took my doggy (and him) for a refreshing walk on the beach (I’ve pulled my back but needed the endorphins). We embraced the sand, water and beautiful bracing sea air. Down at the rock pools, it felt like we could have been on a beach in Greece. I pushed away concerns of the mud, my frown lines increasing from the sun and shunned away from applying the obligatory ‘can’t leave the house without it’ make up. It felt good. I didn’t care and the worry and guilt ebbed away.

Now don’t get me wrong. This feeling of embracing life might come from buying a ‘house practically on the beach’. – Something I’ve wanted for years (another story for another time). It also might have something to do with the fact that the sun was shining (Him says I’m controlled by the weather), but I don’t care (see I’m getting good at this). So what if everyone has smooth, stretched faces. So what that my feed up full of people squatting (I can squat and plank with the best of them but no one will ever see a picture of my sweaty workout bod!). So what that ‘everyone’ is constantly living it up all over the Lincolnshire wolds and beyond. I’m alright and although I’m free falling to that number we must never mention, I’ll hit it with a genuine smile on my face.

1 thought on “Ageing

  1. Mrs F

    We can hit that number that i dare not mention together happy, wrinkles and all. Funny how i consider you laid back and me the worrier. You are enough, you do enough.


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