Delusional in Middle Age....

So here’s the thing, I think I have to finally accept the fact that I am middle age. That I am 40 and not the 20 something person I see in my mind’s eye. I am sure we all have a different perception of ourselves, a younger more carefree version of ourselves. You know the one, before babies, partners, mortgages and all the other shit entered out lives.


All week I have been looking, rather sadly I have to admit, at a photo that was taken last Saturday night at a summer ball we were invited to. There we are all done up to the nines, Mr P even wore a dinner suit, which is a first in the 17 years we have been together. But the woman looking back at me is not me; it is a cross between my older sister (12 years older) and my dear old mum. A middle age woman who looks like she needs to sleep for a week!

Yip, think I have been deluding myself over the last 10 or so years that I am still that younger version of myself. Now there is nothing wrong with being 40, well apart from the fact that recovery time from a night out is a bit longer. In fact I have no issue telling people my age. Why hide the fact? It also helps that I actually look a few years longer than that. Which I put down to having good genes as it is certainly not by taking my makeup off before going to bed or clean living. Any way I digress...

So middle age, in fact you could almost question that 40 is no longer middle age due to what is portrayed in the media, you know the fabulous 40 something yummy mummies, think Elle Macpherson here. Of course we could all look like that if we had squillons of pounds, nannies, personal trainers, dieticians, stylists, and cosmetic surgeons on speed dial. But in the cold blue light of reality for the majority of us, looking that good is just an additional high expectation of motherhood in the 21st century. Really I can’t see her having to put two loads of washing on before the school run, look after a riotous 2 year old while try to clean the house, rushing home after a play date to cook a nutritious meal of fish fingers and baked beans! Can you?

But those two words, the connotations that it brings up, makes me shudder with dread...

“Middle age, that period of age beyond young adulthood, but before the onset of old age”.

I am just not ready to accept the fact that is what I am. Yes, I am a mother so I am responsible when I need to be. But I am not ready to stop being that 20 something girl, to throw away my wardrobe for a more mumsy sensible one, to stop having nights out with the girls (or boys for that matter), dancing on tables, okay haven’t done that in a while but I think you get the picture...

There is a saying “you are only as old as the person you feel” so I’m off out to find me a toy boy...