Thursday, 19 May 2011

Age ain’t nothing but a number.

For the lucky few at least who never seem to look their age. At the moment, I’m placing myself in that category, although it may just come back to haunt me at some point. When I’m a suitable cadidate for ‘Ten years younger’, then you can all laugh at me. I can justify it without the use of male flattery, which I enjoy, but don’t take too deeply on board. At 23, I went to buy a lottery ticket and was refused. Last year at 29 years of age, I went to a family planning clinic and was told I could come for appointments in the teenager’s clinic. Some teenagers I’ve seen look very old. At least on the surface I appear young, but I rely upon regular hair dying for my grey hairs, and a little of bit of concealer for my 4 eye wrinkles. In order to conserve this look, I should follow the ‘Nicole Kidman School of Smiling’, which is not smiling very much at all. I don’t think I could deny myself the pleasure. There is also the question of my dodgy left knee.

I know for certain that I’m getting older when I hear everyone else complain about getting older. Plus, I can’t ignore the fact when most of my friends are now a two-for-one package. That is, a visit to see them often includes their husbands. This might be OK in another world I’ve mingled in. In fact, as all my female friends’ bellies have swelled, visiting friends is a 3-4-1 package these days. I have to recall my duties as big sister and try not to get freaked out by baby spew on my dry-clean-only clothes, and large baby’s heads. Soon enough they’ll be teenagers, and then I’ll be certain I’m old. I had rather thought I would have been married to Morten Harket by now. I don’t remember if my childhood plans included babies, but then I was innocent and I just wanted to sing A-ha songs. This was perhaps my only example of good taste as a child, and thankfully it’s still true now. Bros and Michael J. Fox were also on my childhood dream list; my only excuse is that it was the 80’s. I even had dungarees and a perm at one stage, for that I can partially blame my mother.

It’s not very rock ‘n’ roll, but I actually want to be old before kicking the bucket. I don’t want any more than a casual cool glance from the undertaker. There’s nothing more pointless than a pretty corpse, little good will come of “such a shame”. I’d rather, “well she’s had a few knocks”, then my spirit would be able to chuckle with “and then some more!” Of course, who doesn’t want to age like Brad Pitt, or Elizabeth Hurley? Susan Sarandon and Sigourney Weaver aren’t doing so badly either, but that’s Hollywood, and even the ladies without enhancements haven’t had a tough life. I have much better examples from real life to follow.

So far, I’ve learnt’ that most Italians tell you what they like in reverse order starting with what they don’t like. I’ve met two upstanding ladies in the last few months that are a breath of fresh air. One is 62 and goes sailing and takes a number of classes. The other has just turned 40 and is only just beginning her voyages. She has so much energy she reminds me of a pinball. She’s always laughing and smiling about something when you see her. In Russia, I knew a lady of 65, she took two steps at a time on the stairs and had boyfriends twenty years her junior. She used to take me to the best restaurants and we’d get drunk together in Keivskaya shopping centre at 2pm. She also had the brave habit of pretending to be an ignorant tourist to distract police men from bullying Kazakstanis. I’d settle for any portion of their attitude to life. This is the key; age is an attitude not a number. If you’re the kind of person who complains all the time, negativity attracts the addition of years and becomes moulded onto your appearance. When you meet me, I’m very rarely frowning; I guess most teenagers have such facial expressions permanently etched. I’ve not given up on doing things for the first time and I hope that I never will. I don’t have the opinion that everything about me is fully formed. I wouldn’t like to be eighteen again, but I’m still dancing in the street from time to time, so at least I feel eighteen.

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