The Times They Are a-Changin’ – Bob Dylan

 

The Ice Age

The Ice Age

 

I told a friend today last week that I felt older. Not older and wiser, just older. Of course she reassured me I hadn’t aged in the last month she hadn’t seen me. In fact, she said, I looked positively chilled and relaxed. Well, thank heavens for that.

It’s been over a week Ok, it’s been a WHILE since I posted here and believe me, in that time I’ve realised how much older (and perhaps, wiser) I am.

A visit to a well-known, London clothing retailer now with a store in South Yarra helped me come to the inevitable and denied realisation that women my age work harder (in everything) – in their careers, relationships, interests and physical attributes – and we reap much more in return. Yes, this in fact the truth.  We work harder at all these things in the belief that something good will come of it, in a promotion/new job, developing or maintaining relationships, learning new ideas and keeping a level of physique similar to your 20s. And it’s on the latter that I felt most confronted by the visit to TopShop. My old shopping haunt suddenly became a temporary hazard to my mental health. Extreme as that may sound, I was surrounded by pre-teens and young women parading around the store with youthful and carefree exuberance.

Despite my best efforts to ignore, I found myself critically reflecting on my own youth given that stage had and well and truly passed. The skinny-fit young things not only looked healthy, they oozed enough bravado to keep the Kardashian sisters’ egos sky high. Truth of the matter is, I doubt I was ever that confident at their age. To cut a LONG story short, in my head I was dreaming up countless ways of making yours truly feel better in their youthful presence by hoping one long-legged beauty would fall over, try on a dress two sizes too small and – my favourite, me telling myself rather desperately, “your boobs are better”. Maybe.

TopShop experience aside, I also recently discovered that I am in fact, part of the declining group of women in my friendship group/s who is unattached and unmarried. I made this realisation while I watched a very close friend change her newborn son’s nappy in a pram and in a restaurant dining room. In my head I tallied my closest friends, their significant others and respective offshoots (i.e. kids). I must say I am neither positive or negative about this, but I quietly pondered my loneranger status and contemplated Tweeting my realisation. Instead, I pondered some more about the future. Then I looked around, chatted with my friend, sipped my wine and saw everything was good.

Until next time…

mf 🙂

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