2013 promises to be a defining year for me – to some degree anyway. This is the year that I turn 60. I have only just adjusted – sort of – to the description of middle-aged being applied to me. OK, I don’t exactly feel ‘young’ any more but middle-aged sounds staid and matronly and it is a term that I have been happy to ignore in relation to myself.
Embarking on my seventh decade though is both confronting and scary. It is also a time for acknowledging realities:
- I am not going to be Prime Minister of Australia. This was a teenage ambition but I never did have the required degree of focus and intellectual retention. Probably the main person who takes me seriously is myself.
- I am not going to meet my Knight in Shining Armour (KISA). If it hasn’t happened by now, then it is unlikely to do so and I remain one of life’s unclaimed treasures. Sadly, his armour is probably all rusted up anyway.
- I am not going to be rich, or even just comfortably wealthy. This is assuming of course that richness is measured in monetary terms. I am certainly rich in other aspects of my life.
- The attractiveness that was evident in younger years (never great and never conventional) is fading fast as my waistline thickens, my hair thins and there are jowls framing my numerous chins.
- I am becoming invisible and a person whose opinion is of diminishing importance. (Being patronised by someone whose nappy you changed is a bit irritating.)
- Suddenly it is considered not appropriate to shop for clothes in boutiques that I have patronised for years – OK decades. Apparently some clothes are the prerogative of the young and I should now be confining myself to elasticised waists and florals.
Still, I am sure I can cope with all of that. In my usual style, I’ll just ignore it and go on behaving, dressing and dreaming as I always have.
This looming birthday is just one of the issues that I am confronting in 2013, but the others can wait for a later blog.