Growing old gracefully.
A friend called over today and as she was leaving she glanced at my wedding picture on my hall table and stopped to do a double take.
"Oh my God", she said snatching it up, "Is that you?" and she looked at the picture and then at me and then back to the picture and then at me. "I can't believe it. You look amazing!!"
"Thanks" I smiled.
"No, I mean like, oh my God, you look gorgeous. I would not have recognised that it was you. I seriously would not think that you were the same person, you look so........"Pause........aaand there it is - all of a sudden she has realised what she has just said - She wouldn't recognise me looking so well as she is so used to seeing me looking so ordinary.
Cringe!
For those of you who have only known me for the past four and a half years, I wasn't always a dog. Well actually, that is not strictly true. During my teenage years and well up until I discovered the GHD hair straighter there were many days when I had some dog like tendencies but for a few years during my twenties, I was actually quite passable and dare I said it myself, but could even a bit of a babe when I made the effort.
Firstly, old age has taken it's toll. I can deal with the grey hairs - a bit of hair dye doesn't cost the earth and it's nice to have some alone time in the hairdressers every few weeks to flick through a couple of magazines and eat a few sweets without two little people crawling all over me and actually sticking their hands in my mouth to retrieve what ever goody that I have put in there; but it's my wrinkles that I find a bit harder to deal with.
They have just sort of crept up on me all of a sudden - I mean, I actually didn't really notice them until they were brutally pointed out to me recently. I was in a play and had to look a bit older than what I currently am and the girl who was putting up my hair said to me "I love your make up. How on earth did you get those wrinkles on your forehead to look so realistic?" "I... erm... haven't actually put my make-up on yet" I answered her "Those wrinkles are my own". "Oh God" she gasped clasping her hands to her mouth in horror, "Oh my God -I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry! Is that the worst insult you've ever been given?".
"Weeell, there was that time somebody asked me when my baby was due..." (This was at a wedding before I had any children, or was even pregnant. I have subsequently donated the outfit that I wore that day to charity).
Now I know all about botox and all that but it costs an absolute fortune and if I was going to make that sort of an effort, wouldn't I then have to go down the route of getting my nails done, wearing make-up every day, caring about what I wear and even styling my hair. Before I sound too much like a slob I do shower every day and my clothes are clean (just in case some of you were starting to experience the ick factor) but the rest of it just sounds too much like hard work. When would I get the time?
First of all, it's not only myself I have to get dressed every day - it's two other people as well and they are not the most co-operative pair of children that I have ever met. Charlotte dashes from toy to toy in the morning desperately trying to make up for all that lost time that she spent sleeping so my method of dressing her consists of taking a pyjama top off here, putting on a sock there and it can take up to half an hour to make her presentable to the world.
Andrew on the other hand insists on doing everything himself because he is a 'big boy' now (very big deal to be a big boy - there are lots of arguments at play school over who is the biggest boy but Andrew reckons he is because he can now do his poo's in the toilet. He announced that to a friend of mine in Tesco's the other day at the top of his voice so that all the passer-bys heard him and started roaring laughing). The problem is though that he can't do everything himself so dressing him in the morning takes even longer than Charlotte as we argue over every second item of clothing. He always gets stuck on his socks and fights and fights with me as I try to help him just to save a few minutes so that I can get into the shower. To keep the peace we have recently come to an agreement that he will be able to do everything that he wants to be able to do when he is four. It just makes life easier at the moment and when his fourth birthday comes I am just going to disappear for a few days and let his father deal with him.
That's not to say that I never make an effort though. When I had to wear a size 18 dress to my sisters wedding, I decided that something had to be done and so I went to one of those diet companies and paid them three hundred Euro to tell me what to eat for twelve weeks (my husband thought I had gone mad but I just knew that if I paid for the diet, I'd stick to it. I'd never spend that amount of money and spent the next twelve weeks scoffing mars bars behind the shed). It was vile - full of things to eat like egg white omelettes and porridge made with water and cottage cheese but I stuck to it and lost two stone. Then last September I got the swine flu and I lost another half a stone in only a week and if I am to be honest, out of the two diet plans I think that I preferred the swine flu. It is the only time that I have ever been sick and looked better after the illness than I did before it.
I think the problem is that I am just too lazy and not motivated enough to really make that much of an effort. When I see all these glamorous people who have the perfect hair, make-up, nails, figure and clothes, I just think - when do they have time to live?(It helps me with my jealousy) All that maintaining must take up so much time and what if someday they wake up too late to complete their morning ritual of two and a half hours of preening? They must spend the day feeling like sh*t without their armour of glamour. I on the other hand am so used to not caring that much about my appearance that when I do make the effort I am thrilled with all of the lovely comments I receive when people realise that I look like crap normally out of choice and not birthright.
I have decided to grow old gracefully. It doesn't require a lot of work so fits in with my lifestyle perfectly. After all, the opposite of growing old is dying so when I look at it that way, I'm laughing. And if all that laughing gives me a few more lines, well then, all the better.
"Oh my God", she said snatching it up, "Is that you?" and she looked at the picture and then at me and then back to the picture and then at me. "I can't believe it. You look amazing!!"
"Thanks" I smiled.
"No, I mean like, oh my God, you look gorgeous. I would not have recognised that it was you. I seriously would not think that you were the same person, you look so........"Pause........aaand there it is - all of a sudden she has realised what she has just said - She wouldn't recognise me looking so well as she is so used to seeing me looking so ordinary.
Cringe!
For those of you who have only known me for the past four and a half years, I wasn't always a dog. Well actually, that is not strictly true. During my teenage years and well up until I discovered the GHD hair straighter there were many days when I had some dog like tendencies but for a few years during my twenties, I was actually quite passable and dare I said it myself, but could even a bit of a babe when I made the effort.
Firstly, old age has taken it's toll. I can deal with the grey hairs - a bit of hair dye doesn't cost the earth and it's nice to have some alone time in the hairdressers every few weeks to flick through a couple of magazines and eat a few sweets without two little people crawling all over me and actually sticking their hands in my mouth to retrieve what ever goody that I have put in there; but it's my wrinkles that I find a bit harder to deal with.
They have just sort of crept up on me all of a sudden - I mean, I actually didn't really notice them until they were brutally pointed out to me recently. I was in a play and had to look a bit older than what I currently am and the girl who was putting up my hair said to me "I love your make up. How on earth did you get those wrinkles on your forehead to look so realistic?" "I... erm... haven't actually put my make-up on yet" I answered her "Those wrinkles are my own". "Oh God" she gasped clasping her hands to her mouth in horror, "Oh my God -I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry! Is that the worst insult you've ever been given?".
"Weeell, there was that time somebody asked me when my baby was due..." (This was at a wedding before I had any children, or was even pregnant. I have subsequently donated the outfit that I wore that day to charity).
Now I know all about botox and all that but it costs an absolute fortune and if I was going to make that sort of an effort, wouldn't I then have to go down the route of getting my nails done, wearing make-up every day, caring about what I wear and even styling my hair. Before I sound too much like a slob I do shower every day and my clothes are clean (just in case some of you were starting to experience the ick factor) but the rest of it just sounds too much like hard work. When would I get the time?
First of all, it's not only myself I have to get dressed every day - it's two other people as well and they are not the most co-operative pair of children that I have ever met. Charlotte dashes from toy to toy in the morning desperately trying to make up for all that lost time that she spent sleeping so my method of dressing her consists of taking a pyjama top off here, putting on a sock there and it can take up to half an hour to make her presentable to the world.
Andrew on the other hand insists on doing everything himself because he is a 'big boy' now (very big deal to be a big boy - there are lots of arguments at play school over who is the biggest boy but Andrew reckons he is because he can now do his poo's in the toilet. He announced that to a friend of mine in Tesco's the other day at the top of his voice so that all the passer-bys heard him and started roaring laughing). The problem is though that he can't do everything himself so dressing him in the morning takes even longer than Charlotte as we argue over every second item of clothing. He always gets stuck on his socks and fights and fights with me as I try to help him just to save a few minutes so that I can get into the shower. To keep the peace we have recently come to an agreement that he will be able to do everything that he wants to be able to do when he is four. It just makes life easier at the moment and when his fourth birthday comes I am just going to disappear for a few days and let his father deal with him.
That's not to say that I never make an effort though. When I had to wear a size 18 dress to my sisters wedding, I decided that something had to be done and so I went to one of those diet companies and paid them three hundred Euro to tell me what to eat for twelve weeks (my husband thought I had gone mad but I just knew that if I paid for the diet, I'd stick to it. I'd never spend that amount of money and spent the next twelve weeks scoffing mars bars behind the shed). It was vile - full of things to eat like egg white omelettes and porridge made with water and cottage cheese but I stuck to it and lost two stone. Then last September I got the swine flu and I lost another half a stone in only a week and if I am to be honest, out of the two diet plans I think that I preferred the swine flu. It is the only time that I have ever been sick and looked better after the illness than I did before it.
I think the problem is that I am just too lazy and not motivated enough to really make that much of an effort. When I see all these glamorous people who have the perfect hair, make-up, nails, figure and clothes, I just think - when do they have time to live?(It helps me with my jealousy) All that maintaining must take up so much time and what if someday they wake up too late to complete their morning ritual of two and a half hours of preening? They must spend the day feeling like sh*t without their armour of glamour. I on the other hand am so used to not caring that much about my appearance that when I do make the effort I am thrilled with all of the lovely comments I receive when people realise that I look like crap normally out of choice and not birthright.
I have decided to grow old gracefully. It doesn't require a lot of work so fits in with my lifestyle perfectly. After all, the opposite of growing old is dying so when I look at it that way, I'm laughing. And if all that laughing gives me a few more lines, well then, all the better.
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