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Being stalked….. ~ Northernmum

Age stalks me like a persistent toddler, it scratches at my face leaving lines in its wake and it leaps on me wrapping me in its shroud, always when I least expect it.

Like last week in Tesco when I found myself transfixed by a pair of tarten slippers, they called to me in a voice that once belonged to Jimmy Choo. They looked simply luxurious, the pattern would compliment any Pyjamas and the fur trim could only mean heaven for my corns. I stroked them for a while until a youthful store assistant started to look at me in an odd manner. I even put them in my trolley with full intent to buy until suddenly age spotted a Victoria Sponge and left my body for a moment and I came rapidly to my senses.

But age has started to take roots in my body, it controls my fingers when I gently turn the radio down to a gentle hum, it manipulates my choices when I switch from Radio One to the tender throes of Classic FM. It has taken over my eyebrows as they rise through their own will when I see skirts up girls arses and read text messages written in a language I cnt spk.

Age is also changing me, I found myself booking a wax at the local beauticians and rather than opting for my usual half leg wax I suddenly veered at the last minute and went for the full face. No bugger sees my lily whites but it is clearly time to admit that plucking one’s chin is not really tweezing a rogue eyebrow.

In the office I got excitedly into a debate about the benefit of slips, and I was arguing in favour of much to the confusion of the office junior who was simply clueless as to what we were referring to…

I no longer expect to get a full night’s sleep, my problem is not un sleeping children but more a tantruming bladder which cannot manage more than a couple of hours without demanding attention. It is age, not me, that looks at shopping bags on wheels as objects of desire.

Put simply, age is a bit of a git.

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Comments

  1. Helloitsgemma says:

    Let me know if you need me to call round with meals on wheels – shepherds pie? I shall be listening to radio 1 and I definitely not wearing a slip or tartan slippers.

  2. I know the feeling – the little bugger keeps streaking my hair with silver too!!

  3. I stick two fingers and big knickers up at age! It’s not getting me yet :)

  4. What’s a slip?

  5. I have pink fluffy slippers and I prefer my trainers to high heels any day of the week now. Go back and buy those slippers when noones looking!

  6. Are you the same one that turned 35 last month? I’m afraid you are not qualified to talk of age for at least another six years.

  7. Great post. I can really empathise on all fronts, are you wearing bed socks yet?

  8. brill post, made me chuckle in an uncomfortable manner as felt uneasy reading someone else’s version of my life – I’M GETTING OLD – NOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

  9. I went into a rather “rad” shop the other day to buy something punky for my 17 year old. I was chatting to the young guy behind the desk about the shop’s clientele when he started telling me that they were getting a lot more “older people” – at which point he gestured at moi! He caught himself by adding “You know, buying gifts for your kids”, but I’m afraid it was far too late.
    BTW – I am writing about one perfect aging solution on my blog at this very moment.

  10. Oh, it is awful. I’m going to the optician this week and I am in fear that he will make me get bifocals… The trauma. Is not being able to see really that bad?

  11. all hail the comfy slippers : )

  12. Ok, step away from the tartan slippers. Do not mention slips when young wans are about and above all do.not.let.age.win,. …. I certainly have no intention of letting it win!

    xx Jazzy

  13. Wonderful assessment of your decline into old age-y-ness. I, too, find myself doing the same sorts of things– and then hoping against hope that no one saw me turn down the sound on the TV, or gaze longingly at those delightfully frumpy flat shoes.

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