It’s my birthday today. I am 44.
It’s a bit of a mind bender to be honest. It’s not that I am averse to ageing. Indeed, ageing is much better than the alternative, frankly.
It is also fair to say that my life has improved significantly with age, and I wouldn’t go back if you paid me.
I don’t mind physically ageing either. I always found the idea of having to look young and beautiful quite challenging. Mainly because although, in my youth, I could totally pull off the young aspect of it, I was never going to win third prize in a beauty contest and collect my ten pounds. I was delighted when all that nonsense was behind me and I could just concentrate on being myself, and mostly just aiming not to have all my skin fall off.
(on this subject, Tilly made me laugh so much last week when she went to buy moisturiser and came home empty handed. ‘Why can’t they just be honest and tell you it’s stuff to make your skin feel soft and not fall off? Why do they have to pretend it makes you look ten years younger, or look like someone else? Why can’t people just be happy being who they are? – Quite)
Not having my skin fall off is my best beauty skill, and so far I’ve been really successful at it.
The thing that’s bending my mind about being 44 is that it seems so very grown up. You know, I’m all the fours and really I don’t feel like all the fours. I feel like I’m still roughly ten, striding around the garden in my Liverpool tracksuit and orange wellingtons and totally feeling like I was a demi goddess in nylon with nowhere to really go.
Forty four seems weighty, and responsible, and like I should be totally on it. I am not. I cannot cope with the fact that this year my children will be 17, 13 and 10 respectively and that I am in charge of them, or that my husband has recently taken up golf, which is the proper kind of thing to do when you and your children reach the ages they do.
What am I doing?
Well, I spent a lot of yesterday doing as much eating as possible, and bemoaning the fact that my jeans were not the best clothes to do eating in, and really I should have chosen suitable ‘eating trousers’ with an elasticated waist.
I spent quite a bit of time laughing uproariously as my dad, in all seriousness, told the children that in the olden days, when he was a lad; ‘a skirting board was a luxury.’
I worried about Brian May. One of his tweets turned up in my Twitter time line yesterday. Firstly I was fascinated by the fact that he signs all his tweets ‘Bri’. Just in case we don’t know who they’re from. Then I got to thinking about the fact that he is a big fan of badgers. I wondered if he was so worried about badger culling because he looks a bit like a badger, and he’s worried that when he goes on a country walk with Anita, they might get shot by an angry farmer?
I spent some time deciding what to wear for the Junior Doctor rally today. I know it should be all about the politics, but I don’t get out much and I feel it is important to dress appropriately. After all, look at how much of a nightmare yesterday was without the correct apparel. I could have eaten a lot more brownies if only my waistband had allowed for more give.
Somehow these do not seem like appropriate thoughts for a woman of 44, but they’re all I have.
Happy birthday to me.