Claire Heaney
THE other night as I lay in bed I felt old age creeping up on me.
As I was ruminating about the advance of middle age, my husband rolled over and began to snore.
Yeah, I know all that stuff about age just being a number but there's been a whole heap of little things that have all added up to make me feel, well, old.
Like deciding how we would mark my husband's looming half century when he insisted there was to be no party.
The kids and I hatched a plan to spend his birthday at Australia Zoo, on the Sunshine Coast, last week.
While some 50-year-olds might be quaffing Penfolds Grange, I figured with three kids aged 5, 8 and 10, he can do that for his 70th.
Luckily, Terri Irwin was having a bash for young Bob's 6th birthday which meant, among other things, free entry for kids and a chance for all of us to get in touch with our inner-child.
That organised, I headed to the letterbox to find there was a letter addressed to him from Australian Pensioners' Insurance Agency inviting him to ring and get a quote now that he was approaching that magic age.
Then, I was doing some online quotes for travel insurance for a holiday next year. When all travellers were 49 years or under the quote was $344. But when I adjusted it to reflect my husband's new age the quote jumped to $463.
Along the way, there have been the Facebook updates from a friend who has just returned from Bangkok where she underwent a face and neck lift.
We had a farewell lunch for her, feeling a bit queasy as she outlined her chosen path to eternal youth.
Weeks after the cut-price procedure she sent me a picture with the caption ``still cooking''. Given I can't even chop up meat, her entertaining but vivid descriptions scared the heck out of me.
I was talking to another friend about it and she did remind me that at a certain age a woman has to decide whether she is going to save her face or her body.
Sadly, as I caught sight of myself under what I regard as extremely unforgiving lights at a public toilet I was pretty sure I was losing the battle on that front. Then the next day at my all too infrequent fitness sessions my niggling hammy started playing up so I had to adjourn for coffee and cake.
When my youngest turned five last week I had mixed emotions. At 45 I feel far too old to have a little one about to start school. But, I am reminding myself that there are some upsides.
These kids will keep me young. And, I don't care if I never eat at a top notch restaurant or drink a bottle of wine that costs more than $15 again.
And while my dressing style is on the conservative side, I am not wearing the Osti-style dresses my mum was getting around in at my age.
But, just quietly, I have been talked into an information session outlining the benefits of non-invasive skin product, promising to iron out some of those emerging lines.
In the meantime, my husband's too busy playing with his new toy, an iPod, and organising golf lessons he's been putting off for 18 years that I know of.
So, just maybe, life does begin at 50.
No comments:
Post a Comment