Friday, 1 July 2011

You Know You're Getting Old....

In my mind I'm still a teenager.  My mental age really hasn't matured since 1987, unfortunately however, my body has.  My flesh and bones have continued to age even though the brain refuses point blank to give up its youthful joie de vivre.  This combination has proven to get me into the occasional spot of bother.

Yesterday, for example, it seemed like a wonderful idea for me to get out the kids new CycoCycle.  This contraption is like a unicycle with stabilisers, that you steer by twisting in the saddle.  It's fast and furious and more than a little temperamental.  So what on earth possessed a 42 year old woman to climb onboard, wearing  totally inappropriate footwear a.k.a. flip flops?  Why did I attempt to whizz around the bumpy lawn?   As if that wasn't bad enough, why oh why did I then decide to limbo under the swing frame??

If I had been 20 years younger, a foot shorter or more nimble, what happened next could have been avoided.  Sadly though I am the wrong side of the big 4-0, I am 6 foot tall and as stiff as a board.  So as I attempted to navigate the swingset, I lost my balance.  The Cycocycle started to tip over backwards.  In an attempt to steady myself I grabbed for the wooden frame of the swings.  Alas, gravity was stronger than my flailing limb that sought stability.  My inabilty to counteract the tipping resulted in me going over with a massive bang, leaving half the skin of my finger and a nail on the rough timber.

Lying upside down with a Cycocycle on top of me, bleeding and with a back that felt like it had been kicked by a horse, I did the only thing I could do.  I shouted for my teenager who was off school because of the teacher's strike.  She had her best friend round.  They both came running to my aid but dissolved into hysterics seeing me underneath the Cycocycle.  I didn't get much sympathy...but I probably didn't deserve it did I?

Maybe it's time for me to grow up!  I remember my own mum at my age in her pinny and head scarf doing the housework.  She wore sensible slacks and never left the house without her "face on".  I wear jeans, Converse and might just about pop on some eye liner if I'm looking particularly anaemic in my lower eyelid!

No way would my mum be trying to do stunts on a child's toy.  She would be peeling veggies for a wholesome  meal for her family.  She'd be ironing tableclothes or handwashing our delicates.  I did not inherit my mum's housewifery skills.  I'm seriously undomestic.  Instead I am a someone who refuses to grow old gracefully.  Refuses to embrace the domestic goddess ideal.  Refuses to allow my mental age to catch up with my physical age.

However...maybe I should curb the circus skills because my skinned finger and aching back are really not fun!!


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