Turning 50. It’s ok…I think.

Grrr. FIF…TEE. FIFTY. FIDDY. FIF-DEE…or FIT-TIE. Ugh. Half a century old. This year I’m going to be HALF A CENTURY OLD!!! Excuse the outburst as an opening paragraph, I just needed to vent the fact that I’m turning 50 later this year out of my system. It’s cool. I’m cool— contrary to what my kids think. Phew. I feel like I’ve done a HIT session equivalent to writing.

As my school friends turn that age, I’m grateful that I’m one of the youngest in my year. There was a time when the youngest bunch of us wanted to be older, like our peers. Ha! Not now. My friends and I often discuss the issues of being on the dark side of 40 and all that nature curses us with; let’s be honest here, the prospect of not so firm jawlines, boobies and bottoms and the menopause aren’t exactly appealing. But (pun unintended) we as modern women are going there armed and ready for this new phase of maturity. It’s not just the women either. The men, too are facing this with the same passion as we laydeees.

Gym memberships, fitness and wellness apps are rife. We are also spoiled for choice with ‘expert’ menopause advice. In a generation of modern technology, we really do have knowledge and guidance at our well-moisturised finger-tips. Women and men have never looked so good. Attitudes have changed. Just because we’re getting older, it doesn’t mean we have to accept it, as was the stance of previous generations. Nope. Now, people have fitness/appearance goals. Obviously, not everyone is aspiring to look ten years younger, but we do want to indulge in some physical and mental self-preservation, whatever that means for the individual. Some go as far as having a little or a lot of cosmetic/aesthetic enhancement and others acknowledge that growing old is a rite of passage and just want to look after themselves.

Me, personally? I like to look after myself. I have been asked if I’d ever have Botox/ lip fillers/ fillers but if I’m honest, this doesn’t appeal to me. I’ve been given the privilege of life and what goes with it. If I ‘look my age’ then so be it. As it is, with my friends— guys and gals, we will continue to laugh and despair at our plight… and our fight for some semblance of ‘looking good in our middle-age’, convincing ourselves that we’re fitties in our fifties. On that note, I’m off to do half-an-hour on the static bike and pull ludicrously scary facial exercises—the midlife jowls aren’t dropping with the ease of a bad comedian’s mic!

Take care, Eva x

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