10 Things I do now I didn’t do 10 Years ago
1.Pinch the back of my hand to see how long it takes for the skin to snap back. (*wanders into the kitchen, makes a cuppa, lets it brew, adds milk, pops in a couple of slices of toast…..nope, still not snapping)
2.Have my eyebrows tinted. Under this innocent looking fringe lurk the beetling brows of Groucho Marx. Yes, I’m afraid the beautician left the dye on a little too long this time. Even so it’s better than looking like Bowie post Ziggy. In this era of “strong” brows it makes a difference.
3.Use a torch to read menus in dark restaurants. Well, my phone torch, but still…those rods and cones aren’t what they were. Annoying.
4.Make little huffing noises whenever I kneel or get up suddenly. It helps cover up the creaking sounds from my knees. If something’s on a low shelf, unless it’s a Tiffany cut diamond, it’s staying right there. I bend for no one.
5.Drive infrequently. I used to be a regular Clarkson behind the wheel. Once I drove on my own from London to Venice. No longer. Here are the conditions in which I do not like to drive: on ill lit roads; over long distances; at night; in rain with lots of spray; in fog; if I’m tired; after midnight; if there’s a nice train with a trolley (and wine); if there’s someone else to drive.
6.Take my vitamins. I have a generous daily intake of supplements for which I am much derided by Mr Mutton. (Let’s see who’s laughing when I’m doing handstands at 80). It’s like swallowing the bottom of a fish tank. Most mornings I take fish oils; uridine (ordered online while watching a terrifying TV programme about Alzheimer’s); probiotics; MSM and hyluaronic acid (for skin tone). And if all those haven’t choked me, I add a multi vitamin chaser.
7.Use a magnifying mirror to put on my eye liner. I have one stuck to my bathroom wall. It’s this baby. Golly, is it terrifying – like looking at a relief map of the Andes – but very necessary if I’m not going to go out looking like Lee Bowery did my make up.
8.Buy a vibrator. Let’s not get carried away here. I’m not, like, buying them all day long. I’m not some kind of vibratorholic. Actually, as an ex-Convent school girl I’m more or less a complete prude. Ten years ago, not only had I never been inside any kind of “adult” store, I used to scuttle past them as if something large and priapic was about to leap out the door and ravage me against a parking meter. So when I turned 50 – officially too old to give a toss (suddenly everything I type is a double entendre) – I thought I would take a look. Actually, it was no more threatening than a wool shop – if a wool shop sold crotchless knickers, chocolate willies and large silicon devices called “The Tickler”. The shopping experience was about as titillating as buying a toaster. The assistant asked what kind of orgasm I was after, much in the bored, matter of fact way air stewards ask if you want beef or chicken. Later I realised everyone buys their “personal massage aids” on Amazon anyway. This one is particularly discreet.
9. Write this blog. Back then I had kids at school. Wearing shoes that matched every day felt like an achievement. Never fear, the ‘middle’ bit of being middle-aged gives you time and the ‘age’ bit makes you do stuff with it.
10. (Mostly) I no longer care two hoots about what people think. Not because I’m some challenging feisty old rabble rouser – apple carts have nothing to fear here. But it finally dawned on me that people don’t take much notice of what anyone else does and they care even less. So many things that used to fret me turn out to be utterly inconsequential. Phew!