Too Old to be Young...

A few weeks ago I thought I was staring 35 dead in the face with courage and an erudite sense of calm detachment. But that was a few weeks ago… 

 As each day since has clocked past, the 35-ness continues to crawl further up my body, clawing and scratching as it continues to engulf me. At night, this creature injects strange poison into my body, making my left knee ache and my neck suddenly contort into a strange position akin to the exorcist. Muscle spasms, I hear, are a part of being infected with this cretinous affliction which most people have dubbed ‘Middle Age.’ I, myself, do not agree that these gentle words are fitting to name such a beastly and pervasive malady.

Here’s the thing, I had decided who I was, what I wanted and where I was going. I had recently recovered from the sideways blow delivered by the transition into marriage and was enjoying the new found sense of ‘who me be.’ I had things SORTED OUT!

And then, over-night, all these strange things started to happen! I was suddenly aware of my body clock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. It began to boom inside my head in some vivid imitation of the sickening death knell I once heard in a tawdry 80’s horror flick.  I started noticing babies. Human babies- not gorgeous little baby animals- but squinty, wrinkled, squawking, ill-defined homosapien miniatures.  And not in the usual way that I have always noticed babies- as announcements that the dreaded mandatory, zippered valour tracksuit is nearby… But in the interested, peering-over-the-railing-on-the-pram-to-get-closer-look kind of interested. I came home after a shopping expedition last week and announced to my husband that I had seen a cute baby. So used to this kind of sentence NOT coming from my mouth in reference to a human, he said, “oh really? Baby what?” It was then I realised that I had been infected with something nasty! What was happening to me??? It felt foreign and unspeakable!

 

"What's going onnnn?"

In addition, I started…this is difficult for me to admit so bear with me…

I.

Started.

Nanna.

Napping.

The girl who was afraid to sleep in on weekends because she might miss something fun and was always too wired during the day to sleep was taking NANNA NAPS??? And what’s worse…enjoying them… With my feet perched in the warmth of my husband’s lap as he read his book, my head slightly erected by the couch and cocked to the side with a throw cushion, I slept like a-well-an old person! 

It’s true that about a year ago I began to look at clothes and shoes and think ‘they look comfortable,’ but I was mostly able to hide these awkward occurrences by racing to the nearest inappropriate and uncomfortable item that was nearby. It’s also true that post age 32, when I got a dinner invitation that that stated a start time after 7:30, I would groan and complain that ‘I simply could not wait that late to eat dinner!’ I would begin planning the appropriate snack to tide me over. Um, well, to be honest, I would really plan a ‘first dinner’ to tide me over until ‘second dinner’ (well, if the Hobbits can do it with breakfast…). Yet, I never truly succumbed to the truth that I was skidding towards Middle Age with a jet-fuelled power-pack strapped to my back and roller skates on. Yes, I am too old and my generation skipped roller blades but luckily I have lived long enough to see a resurgence of ‘cool’ in the archaic roller skate. 

And this is where I am- stuck in Land Between Time. Too old to be young. Too young to be old. Trying to remember how to roller skate as I wobblingly wind my way through crowds of adults clutching mini-people, searching for an information centre where I can stop and ask for directions to DINK-Ville. My metaphorical iPod has been blaring the repetitive mental clamouring of what I was supposed to have done or achieved or weigh by this age. I clutch an imaginary checklist with- if I do say so myself- an appropriate number of things checked off to take to whoever gives enough of a damn to look. Married-check! Kids- no check. Career-check! Nice home-check! Lots of useless accoutrements- check!  Fast car-check! The thing is, who am I supposed to take the list to? Wasn’t someone supposed to pat me on the head and say ‘well done?’ at this point or something?

So, here I am-officially diagnosed with this thing that will only continue to grow bigger. Middle Age. I have only two more days until it engulfs me completely. The thing I am most afraid of? Not knowing who I am as a woman afflicted with Middle Age. Will the intensity of the Tick Tock Biological Clock subside? Am I ever going to be able to squat down again without that painful crack in my left knee? Am I going to get through an entire day and make it to a dinner party after 7:30 sans yawning? Is my neck going to get stuck in a permanently crooked position from too much nanna-napping? Will I succumb to the alluring call of the comfortable shoe or the increasingly irresistible pull of the go-with-anything- iron-free-linen-look-wide leg slacks? Is the skin on my upper arms loosening at this pace so that I can use it as aeronautical lift and eventually learn to fly? Because so far it has only served to wave as enthusiastically as my hand can. And what am I meant to do with the oddly sprouting hair on my jawline? Is this some sort of alien-implanted crop? Am I being experimented on while I sleep? And why are people suddenly referring to me as ma’am? What’s that all about? And furthermore, what’s next? Will my ankles begin to disappear under the heft of the southward-calf-pull? Are kids going to be giving up their seats for me on public transport? Just kidding. That’ll never happen- I don’t use public transport! Although I may need to reconsider that at some stage because I have noticed my night vision isn’t what it used to be…

But, dear friends, please promise me just one thing- it’s my Youth’s last dying wish. If I ever start wearing pastel-coloured pedal pushers with matching floral ‘blouses’, or speaking about ‘mauve’ being an appropriate hair colour choice- please call the authorities immediately to report a missing person. The Abby I know and love will have been captured entirely by this ghastly affliction. Please waste no time in sending out the search party! 

Missing Person: Abby. Last seen in March 2015. Likely to be wearing something odd and colourful. Approach with chocolate and red wine and lure to the nearest boutique.

 

 

 

 

Yours in current sound mind and slightly bedraggled body,

Wyld. xx