Showing posts with label age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label age. Show all posts

Friday, 30 January 2009

Revisiting An Age-old Problem

Put cotton in your ears and pebbles in your shoes
Pull on rubber gloves
Smear Vaseline on your glasses
And there you have it; instant old age
Quote from Malcolm Cowley


I'm currently revisiting a problem I only thought I had about 12 months ago when a friend told me that she had bought concessionary tickets for our imminent theatre visit. It turned out that she was winding me up, but I did get a bit worried about the whole thing, because I was 6 years short of 60 at the time and some people had said that I didn't look my true age. (No, they didn't mean I looked 74! Cheeky! Or did they? Hmm...)

Well, this time she's gone and accidentally done it. She was distracted whilst booking the tickets over the telephone and now, I suppose I have a choice. Pick up my ticket from my friend and ring the theatre to explain the mistake, or hope that no one asks me for proof of my age, when I finally present my ticket at the theatre.

I'm considering putting cotton in my ears and pebbles in my shoes, to make myself appear older, for my theatre visit, but my dilemma has also led to me thinking about a few other things, this week, that can generally emphasize the more mature woman's age, or make her look older. So far, I've come up with the following:

1. Listening to Mario Lanza or Russ Conway on her MP3.

2. A toy boy.

3. Clubbing with her daughter.

4. Sending her pocket-sized packet of Rennie soft chews flying across the dance floor, whilst rummaging in her handbag for her embroidered handkerchief.

5. Possessing an embroidered handkerchief.

6. Exposing decollete and cleavage, which would benefit from frequent basting with half a pound of goose fat.

7. A fat face, or fat knees, arising from displacement, caused by prolonged use of her vice-like, but super-slimming bodysuit.

8. Breathing in, but not out.

9. HRT patches accidentally transferred to her face.

10. Matt black hair on the over 65s.

11. A dark tan on wrinkled skin.

12. Lurid make up only usually seen on the ugly sisters during the panto season.

13. False talons varnished bright red.

14. A belly bar or an eyebrow ring.

15. Wearing so much bling-bling that the manager of the local H Samuel stands eagerly on the doorstep of his establishment, whenever she is in the high street.

16. Earrings better suited to hanging from high, drawing room ceilings, rather than ears, combined with large specs.

17. A leotard.

18. Skinny fit clothes designed for supermodels on a diet of cocaine and crumbs.

19. A headscarf.

20. A little scarf, worn under her coat, to keep her neck cosy.

Now, just a minute. Mario Lanza, Rennies, handkerchief, matt black hair, dry skin, lurid make up, bling-bling, headscarf, little scarf. Yay! I'm nearly there! The only thing I'm short of is a toy boy! Any offers?

Silence can be deafening, you know. ;0(

I'm sure that none of you 'more mature' lady bloggers are guilty of any of the above, but feel free to fess up, if you are. There's no one else to hear. I'll admit to listening to Mario Lanza and loving my cosy little neck scarves. Oh, and then there's the belly bar of course and a few of the other things.......

Does anyone want to give me any advice about my dilemma? What would you do? Cough up the extra money or take no notice? How would you choose to look older?

Tuesday, 25 March 2008

Body of Evidence

A recent comment made by sweet irene after my post of 15th March inspired me to write the following.

The charge against the defendant, Mean Mom, is that, whilst she feels no older than 25, there is a mounting body of evidence to suggest that she is, in truth, much older than she feels. The bare facts of the case against the defendant, Mean Mom, are as follows:

The defendant has to be home by 3.30pm from Monday to Friday, because Countdown has become compulsive viewing for her.

It is no longer necessary for the defendant to shave her legs, but she is considering shaving her face.

The defendant's t-shirts and sweaters have to be a size too big in order to hide her muffin top.

The adjective 'pert' can no longer be applied to any part of the defendant's body.

She has an overwhelming desire to sleep on the sofa, with her mouth open, after eating a meal.

She constantly tells her family, or anyone within hearing distance, that she cannot read this, or that, without her glasses.

She begins a lot of sentences with 'When I was your age', or 'When I was young'.

She reminds herself of her mother.

It is necessary for her to grasp a bottle of bleach between her knees and use both pairs of hands in order to loosen the cap.

The defendant never passes a public toilet, because she may be in dire need of one in 20 minutes' time.

If she is not in bed by midnight, she fears that she may turn into something shrunken and ugly. It appears that the defendant may have had a few late nights, already.

She has realised that music can be too loud.

The defendant spends the equivalent of an MP's allowance for his second home, on moisturiser for her legs, feet, hands and neck, but to no avail.

If she is not too hot, she is too cold.

She was forced to have her long straight hair cut off and styled, when young children consistently ran away from her in the street crying 'It's the wicked witch! Save us from the wicked witch!'

More than one cup of coffee per day gives the defendant palpitations.

She has to wear sensible, flat shoes, rather than fashionable high-heels, for any occasion requiring more from her than balancing precariously on the spot.

She has only recently found out what the initials 'LOL' mean and she had to ask her son.

Her sons cannot walk out locally with her in case they see any of their friends.

Her sons' friends do not speak to her, when she sees them in the street. It is common knowledge that her sons' friends are unable to recognise anyone over the age of 25, whilst outdoors, and in the presence of their peers.

Any woman sharing the defendant's first name remembers Frank Ifield, jam sandwiches and regular rainfall.

The defendant's camisoles and thongs bear an uncanny resemblance to thermal pants and vests.

The defendant will not leave the house without her umbrella, as she fears that she will surely perish from double pneumonia if the tiniest of raindrops dares to touch her head.

She will not leave the house without her sunglasses, as she fears that she will be stricken by sudden blindness and will develop wrinkles around her eyes, equalling the depth of large crevasses, if she fails to protect them from even the weakest of the sun's rays.

She will not leave the house without her gloves, as she fears that her hands will quickly bear resemblance to dried up dead leaves, if she neglects to wear her gloves on all but the hottest of days. There seems to be some evidence to suggest that the defendant is locking the stable door after the horse has bolted, with regard to this one.

The defendant prefers to wrap up warmly in knee-length coat, boots, gloves and scarf, whilst others wear little more than jeans and a t-shirt.

When the defendant crouches to reach the Complan from the bottom shelf in the chemist, she is unable to stand up again without assistance from a nice young man. When he heaves her to her feet, she thanks him and calls him 'young man'. She checks out his bottom as he runs towards the exit.

Members of the jury, you have listened to all of the evidence. The charge against the defendant, Mean Mom, is that of being older than she feels and, in fact, she has offered no evidence in her defence. What is your verdict? Guilty, or not guilty?