How the Hell am I 46 Today??

I'm 46 today.

46 years old...how on earth can I be 46?

I distinctly remember being the same age as each of my kids are now, with vivid recollections of clothing I wore, things I said, feelings I felt and friends I made. How can those memories be from so long ago?

It seems like only yesterday that I was a teenager, dressing up for a night out. Donning my DM's, my black leather skirt and jacket, I thought I was cooler than Hazel O'Connor, Toyah and Siouxsie Sioux combined. My painted black nails, dark lipstick and back combed hair may not have been the most flattering look, but it was my look and I rocked it.

I was so slim back then too. It didn't matter what I ate, I was naturally skinny. But I was also moody and surly. I was anti-establishment and anti-social. I wanted to save the whale and ban the bomb. Marx was my historical hero and '1984' was my book of choice.

I absorbed myself in the music and lyrics of David Bowie, Bauhaus, The Smiths, The Cure and Echo and the Bunnymen (whilst secretly loving Madonna, Motown and The Carpenters).

Thinking that the peak of my teen years, when I was sixteen years old, ended thirty years ago is hard to believe.

Fast forward to today...I'm rapidly approaching the milestone of having lived for half a century. But I don't feel much older than I did back then. I'm pretty much still the same girl in lots of ways. I'm young at heart with an immature sense of humour and a love of being inappropriate. I laugh at gross out comedies and I still have crushes on the latest silver screen hunks who are probably half my age. Horror movies remain my favourite genre of film, the scarier the better. I refuse to grow old gracefully.

I still like the same eclectic mix of music. I never tell my daughter to turn down her loud music - instead I join in singing and dancing to the latest 5 Seconds of Summer or Panic at the Disco song. I still favour black clothes and I have never evolved into a stylishly dressed woman. Jeans still feature heavily in my outfits of choice. I am still in love with the same lad that I fancied when I was 14, who grew up to be my husband. We have a shared history that spans over three decades and we still embarrassingly fancy each other.

Physically I might not get away with eating what I want anymore and after five kids my natural propensity to natural slimness is nothing more than a distant memory. My face has lost that tight, tautness of youth and gravity is becoming a more difficult thing for my saggy bits to overcome. My hair is losing the battle against the grey, but I am learning to love my silver highlights rather than denying this natural part of the ageing process. But you can still see that the me of my youth is the same me that I am now.

The biggest difference in me today, compared to that mardy teenager, is that I am happy. Really, really happy and content. Age brings the wisdom and maturity to realise what is really important in this life. For me, being surrounded by love is what makes my life worthwhile. Feeling loved and giving love in return. Doing what I can to make the lives of my loved ones as happy and fulfilled as I possibly can. It may sound twee, but it's the truth.

So as my biological clock ticks into the start of its 47th year, I enter this new phase of my life with a positive outlook and a determination to live my life to the best of my ability. I am truly blessed to find myself at 46 with five children who genuinely fill me with pride everyday and who consider me a friend as well as a mother, and a husband who completes me.

Bring on being 46, because right now I really like who I am, where I am and whom I am with.

Getting old isn't all bad!

I'm getting old.  But it isn't all bad.  It definitely has its perks.

Seeing the results of my years of parenting all grown-up and doing so well, makes me feel every single moment was worth it.  From the sleepless nights to the tantrums to the school runs to the heartbreaks and beyond, I know it has all worked out OK and I must have done a pretty good job for the past 26 years. My three grown-up kids make me immensely proud.  Joe balances being a career man with being a family man. His hands on approach to being a dad is wonderful to witness. Seeing your own child as a parent is such a humbling experience.

Megan is following her dreams and is involved in TV and film production. Just a few months ago she took a huge gamble and quit her job in marketing. It hasn't taken her long to make her mark in the industry, starting off as an unpaid runner, gaining a good reputation and being recommended for work.  She's currently working for the BBC and can add working with John Hurt to her CV. Her determination and ambition inspires me so much.

Ella is in the middle of her A'Levels and is off to university in September. She's got an exciting future ahead. Our house will be so much emptier without her, but I am so excited to see her take this huge step and will be supporting her all the way.  I'll still have my two youngest at home to keep me busy, and we will enjoy visiting everyone at weekends!

Not only am I a grandparent, I am also an incredibly proud Great Auntie (aka Grauntie because it sounds so much cooler!) I am loving the new generation of little people who are taking their place on my family tree, and the promise of future grandchildren, great nephews and great nieces thrills me to bits.

However there is absolutely no denying the fact that my body is ageing, changing and entering a new phase of my life.  My hair is gradually losing the battle of the grey but I absolutely refuse to start dying it.  My natural hair colour is almost black and the root/dye contrast will be just too stark. So I have to get used to the white hairs sprouting where once dark hair grew. I convince myself that the interlopers, stripped of their youthful tones are silver highlights.  It sounds so much more glamorous!

I look at Ian, the man I have known for over 30 years, my husband of 17 years.  He has crinkles around his eyes, his beard is salt and pepper and his back doesn't hold out as well as it did a decade ago.  But when I look at those laughter lines and grey hairs I see someone I am honoured to grow old with.  He always told me he wanted to grow old with me, and here we are hitting our mid forties together and still very much in love. We are still both young at heart, we adore our family and we pride ourselves on still being "down with the kids"!

We don't plan to let the onset of old age bulldoze over us anytime soon.  We have embarked on a huge overhaul of our vegetarian diets.  We eat cleaner now and actively embrace healthy eating.  We have ditched all the processed rubbish, the refined sugars, dairy products and chemical additives and opened our eyes to the joys of fresh fruits and vegetables, nuts and seeds, cooking meals from scratch and finding healthy alternatives in our choice of carbohydrates. We are really enjoying getting creative with courgette 'noodles' and cauliflower 'rice'!

In the scheme of things, these are small changes but they made a great difference to our lives.  I have lost weight without 'dieting' and some health issues I was having such as dizzy spells, extreme tiredness and hormonal imbalances seem to have completely gone. (I blame too much refined sugar and a Pepsi Max addiction for the symptoms, so eliminating both from my diet has helped enormously!)

Our advancing years are not something to fear or dread.  They hold the promise of many more wonderful adventures.  Watching our five children forging their paths in the world, embracing the next generation of our family and enjoying entering the autumn of my years with the man I love.

Growing Old Gracefully

In two weeks time I'm going to be 42!  I'm heading full on into the wrong side of the big 4-0!  The number itself doesn't really bother me...I don't feel old.  My mental age didn't really extend beyond 19.  I still giggle at double entendres, can't behave myself in public places and do silly things that border on the immature.  On one hand, I am responsible for my children, a house and  all that that entails.  But on the other hand I still behave like a child...I mean I can't hear about the planet "Uranus" without dissolving into hysterics.

The only problem is, someone forget to tell my body that I am still really only 19!!  It's the grey hairs that get to me the most.  They sprout out from your scalp mockingly.  Their texture is so coarse and they grow at right angles to the other darker hairs.  They make themselves so obvious!  They don't discretely blend in with your other hair in a lovely salt 'n' pepper arrangement.  They are not subtle.  It is cruel.  I refuse to start dyeing it though.  My mum battled with her own hair for as long as I can remember.  The roots always had the upper hand, edging through within days of a DIY dye.  It was only when she caught her reflection in a security mirror in a post office that she realised how unflattering the stark contrast of dark brown locks to white roots was.  She made the brave decision to grow out the dye and go au naturel.  At first she looked like a Piebald Pony with patches of black, white and browny orange.  But with regular cuts and perseverance, she has now got the most beautiful soft, snowy white hair.  I am hoping to cut out the middle man and avoid the six weekly treatments and let nature do its thing.  I just wish it wouldn't do it in such a mean way with the wiry, white curlies!

The whole diet issue has changed with age too.  It's not too difficult to shift a few pounds but the second I so much as look at a cake, the shrunken fat cells ping back to their former swollen glory.  As the overstretched belly once more hangs over the waist band of my jeans I wonder if surgery is the only option!  That is...getting my greedy mouth sewn shut!  It really does astound me that my weight can fluctuate +/- 7lbs across a week.  I don't remember this phenomena when I was younger.  My fat cells have given up after two decades of being stretched and shrunk.  They are schizophrenic, flitting between their fat and thin personae at their own whim.  I am left in varying degrees of overhang, depending on their mood!  The skin on my body stretched by five pregnancies struggles to hold it all in place.  Sometimes I contemplate attaching a row of dog clips down my spine pulling my flab taut in a temporary DIY nip and tuck!

My other bug bear regarding my age is the appearance of skin tags and other random outcrops of epidermal overgrowth.  They pop up overnight for no reason.  Coupled with this I still get spots!  I thought I'd outgrow the indignity of hormonal break outs.  It was going to be one of the joys of ageing...instead it's just another way of my body to spite me.

Bunions are my body's way of punishing me for years spent in silly, pointy, new romantic shoes in my youth, followed by red stillettos in my latter teens.  I've not been able to get on a pair of girl shoes for years.  My metatarsals have splayed, my arches have dropped and my big toe has given up any effort of trying to be straight.  As I do battle with toe nails that want to ingrow, I wish I'd worn Hush Puppies at that time when all the damage was being done!

The knees ache after a lifetime of being "the tall one"...we were so not designed to be bi-peds!

My under eye bags need more than caffeinated roll on products to shrink them.  Having a baby at my age, then making the decision to be an attachment parent means I have not slept through the night for 21 months and counting.  *yawns*  One night when I get 8 hours uninterrupted I won't know what's hit me!  Till then I'll bed share and breast feed like a mummy doggy with her puppy.

All that said...at 42 I am happy, healthy, loved and so,so lucky!  I wouldn't want to be anyone else or anywhere else.  I may not be a size 10 anymore but I'll shake my size 14 backside with pride.  I won't be running a marathon (good luck to all those about to take on 26 miles in London...RESPECT!!!)  I'm not going to win Britain's Next Top Model.  But Hell...I'm me and life is pretty damn fabulous...celluite and callouses and all!!