After a random, quite funny comment from my hubby about stubble, where he just managed to survive, I’m sat here just thinking about the highs and lows of being a woman and of getting older….the benefits and pitfalls from ageing. The sad thing is, being a glass half empty kind of gal, all I can see is that the pitfalls far outweigh the benefits but I’m very happy to be proven wrong!
I’ve never been very high maintenance as a girl or as a woman. I keep telling my husband how lucky he is… He’s not falling for it!
I think I spent most of my energy on my hair. I’ve been alive for over 444,000 hours, asleep for about 130,000 of those, worked/schooled for maybe 150,000 of those precious hours which leaves 164,000. I reckon I have easily spent 20,000 hours on my hair.
This only leaves 6,000 days left in my life for everything else. Surely that’s not enough time to fit it all in? I’ve grown up, got married and raised two children in those 6,000 days. God I’m good!
My hair has a personality all of it’s own. If my hair were a person it would be Hagrid on a high…. Hairy and hyperactive!
It’s so wayward, when I was a teenager, my hairdresser (who I think was the only gay in the village) used to straighten my hair for me with a sheet of newspaper and an iron. It worked a treat but we looked very odd and I pity anyone walking past the window looking in and seeing a young girl bending over an ironing board while being smothered by the sport section of the Daily Mail!
My mum carried on this tradition until I left home and eventually bought my own very expensive straighteners. They were like a gift from the Gods. My hair felt so soft and flowy and I could swish it around like a Timotei advert!
I never dyed my hair until the greys started to get me down either. I hit the bottle and never looked back and now I have a fab hairdresser who tops me up on a regular basis. I trust her implicitly and regularly go home with different shades in my hair. I’m currently red and I blinking love it.
That’s about the only thing I do as far as maintenance goes except for the odd trip for eyebrow threading and the even more occasional trip for new nails.
In the last ten years I’ve noticed huge changes in myself, in myself and about myself. I’m gong to be brutally honest and hope that you have suffered the same inconvenience and embarrassment that I have otherwise I have totally just exposed myself as a laughing stock!
So first let’s look at the hair versus hormone situation. Why do men get balder as they get older but women sprout hairs in the most weird places? In the summer, you know, when you need to be beach ready, women of a certain age have more hairs on their chin than down below! On one of my trips to get threaded, the lady involved asked if I wanted my chin done too. When I refused she said “Are you sure?”!….Bitch.
Nowadays it’s all Brazilian’s. My foof is lucky if it sees a Bic razor twice a year…Once when summer begins and then a second time when I realised I had missed a bit! As for vajazzles, there are no diamantés within 50ft of my nether region.
I went to have my legs waxed, a few years ago now, and once I got over the initial embarrassment of being told that my leg/hair ratio was one of the worst she had ever seen, I let her start waxing. She started on the lower legs and all was bearable but then she went in at the top end. She plastered the wax on right up to my groin and then, whilst saying “right.. quick tug!” she pulled the strip off. I nearly punched her bl**dy lights out.
I ended up going home with one leg beautifully waxed and smooth and the other still looking like the Amazon rain forest. I finished the job at home and spent the next three weeks shaving the right leg until the hairs on the left leg caught up! I never went back…
Anyway I digress… Another thing I have noticed. We’re so forgetful it’s unreal. I can walk in a room for something and totally forget why I’m there, walk back out, forget why I walked out of the room I was just in, go back in and sit down like nothing happened.
I’ve lost my mobile phone, rang it from the land line three times, found it in the biscuit tin, looked at it and then wondered who’s being trying to ring me!
I’ve booked a holiday flying from Cardiff and booked the airport carpark in Bristol.
I’ve gone to the wrong theatre expecting to see War of the Worlds and got really confused why people were turning up with pink feather boas only to realise they were watching Mamma Mia!
There are so many incidents it’s unreal! My husband despairs.
Body shape is a huge issue for me too. I’ve never been thin and I’m ok ish with that now but my god how can I have changed shape? I used to have a shape, although 6″ too big on either side but now I’m all round in the middle. I put jeans on and look like f**king humpty dumpy!
Some older women can’t cough, or laugh, or sneeze, or run, or jump, or lift, or eat, or walk, or sleep (joking now!) without running the risk of having an oops moment so seeing as it’s not taboo any more (yeah right!), they bring out discreet underwear that makes you feel pretty..apparently!
If I had to wear paper pants, pretty is not a word I would use to describe myself. No amount of bows and butterflies printed on paper grits are going to make me feel pretty!
I’ve also noticed that I now wear flat shoes out of need, not out of choice. I have a huge collection of shoes, some of them with heels to die for and all I can do now is put them on and prance about in front of the wardrobe as there is no way I could negotiate the stairs in them, let alone the front path and the world beyond. I look awesome in them and love my shoes immensely but I am trapped in my bedroom when I wear them!
Now this all may sound like doom and gloom and to be honest, it’s s**t but there are positives to getting older too.
I am way more sassier than I have ever been. I always say I’m two kids braver and will say what’s on my mind rather than keep quiet.
I don’t care what people think about me. Well I do but not as much as I used to. I don’t let it bother me for as long as it would have before. Either that or I forget about it! I know some people don’t like me but that is their loss. I also have issues with a few people out there so fair’s fair I guess!
I am the first to make fun of myself now. I never used to. I used to dread being insulted but I’ve learnt that it’s better to get in there first with the insults rather than have someone tease you and upset you. Get in there first and knock yourself and watch the awkwardness on their face…. Great fun!
As I have gotten older I’ve tried to do something as each decade passes.
For my 30th, I had just had my first born so I was feeling very sore, fat, tired beyond belief and depressed so I think the fact that I got up every day and we all survived is enough for that decade!
For my 40th I took the Mensa test and passed it. I joined Mensa thinking it would change me as a person but despite being apparently very logical, I am thick as s**t. You can’t fix stupid can you!
For my 50th I had some lush photos done. It was a daunting experience and I don’t think I could do it again. Having my hair and make up done and seeing the final prints was fantastic and very empowering but the photographer made me pose in positions I never thought humanly possible. It’s 8 months on and I’m still limping!
Any way I have 9 years to come up with something memorable to do for my 60th. I’ve not thought of anything yet except for the usual parachute jump etc so answers on a postcard please….