Contemplating The Big Five-Oh

I’m rapidly approaching 50. No, really, I know it’s hard to believe but I am literally days away from the big 5-0. Halfway to being a Centenarian. I don’t feel 50, whatever 50 feels like (that sounded a bit Prince Charles-ish, but you know what I mean). However, it does seem quite a long way from being 49. At the moment I’m still in my forties. That sounds quite young still, to me. Whereas 50 is pretty much knocking on the door of being old. Isn’t it?

The thing is I distinctly remember my mum being 50 (I was 28, after all, a young flibbertigibbet) and in a way it doesn’t seem that long ago. My husband turned 50 over eleven years ago and for some reason that seems even longer ago. Maybe the little grey cells are already disintegrating and deceiving me?

If you Google you will find any number of articles about 50 being the new 40, hell, one article even states it is the new 34. Bring it on I say! These are published to make their 50-something readers feel good about themselves. They appear regularly in newspapers like The Guardian, Independent, Daily Mail and in popular women’s magazines. There’s even a website and a Facebook page. Of course, there are the naysayers like Bernard Salt, writing (hilariously) in The Australian (my mum is a typical Picture Theorist BTW).

I don’t feel the need to try wingwalking (Carol Vorderman) but I do recognise the general feeling of contentment I have with my life now  (Ian Rankin) and only this week  I found myself dismissing an outfit as being ‘too young’ for me (Matthew Bourne). Matthew also commented that “(g)etting older only matters if you don’t feel good in yourself.” I would add that it also only matters if you don’t feel good about yourself. Apparently, I’m in good company with Michelle Obama on that one. She also turned 50 this year, as did Russell Crowe, Lenny Kravitz, Tracey Emin, Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. Now, that would be some party!

What are the differences between me at forty and me at fifty? Apart from twenty pounds or so (and no, I don’t mean £s, more’s the pity).  The physical aspects of ageing don’t really spring to mind. Unlike Michelle Perrault I haven’t contemplated touching up my hair – yes there are hints of grey here and there – or plumping for botox… yet. I have slight aches and pains occasionally but I blame them on inherited bunions (thanks Dad). I daren’t ask family and friends but I suspect that I am more belligerent, less patient, more inclined to speak my mind (aka less inclined to tolerate bullsh*t). But apart from these minor idiosyncrasies, I am contented and that counts for a lot.

At any rate, being 50 seems like an appropriate time in my life to commit thoughts – whilst I still have them – to screen. Hence the idea to start the blog. Quintastic!

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