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Over The Hill
Over The Hill
Exactly what is the “official" age for us women creatures to be stamped and labelled as being “passed our sell-by date"? Is it at eighty¸ should we make it? At sixty when our now dominant grey hairs practically prove it? Or maybe at forty¸ when our lives finally begin after our cover is eventually blown for repeating thirty-nine more than twice? Hmm.
It’s amazing isn’t it how as teenagers we are ignorant as to how our lives may turn out years down the line. As for imagining our physical appearances¸ well¸ all that is relative to what takes place and what doesn’t i.e. whether or not our health fairs up¸ our choice to marry or get divorced¸ the desire to have offspring or adversely indulge in a demanding career and of course to what severity we develop vertigo should we climb a rung or two of the social ladder. One thing for sure is that during our adolescent years we somehow just get on with life taking each day literally as it comes¸ after all ‘que sera...sera.’
Once we surpass the age of 21¸ a percentage of our “fairer sex" is now employing time in some form of work whilst getting paid for it. Nevertheless at some point somewhere in our twenties¸ a sudden sense of mad panic comes over us producing a tainted awareness of just how ‘few’ years as opposed to how ‘many’ years we have left until we are entitled to claim our retirement pension. In other words we become conscious of the fact that time flies regardless as to whether or not we are having fun. Either that or we are erroneous in our calculations as we consider ourselves to be middle-aged once we hit the 25-year mark. Interesting.
But then again is it not as we enter into our twenties when magazines and advertising companies subtly tell us that the best way to avoid wrinkles is to prevent them? And that there is no time like the present to start doing so? For those of us who are successfully influenced by the media when it comes to looking after the cutis¸ a whole month’s wage is immediately blown on an all-expensive pot of anti-aging cream that we later discover¸ on removing the deceptive oversized packaging¸ will last us at least until the end of the week. The rest of us either sit back and relax or have no time for such nonsense. All the same we are how we feel and our age at this stage in life has us firmly believing that we still qualify to be “in the running".
As we move on into yet another decade we notice that at thirty something our skin as well as other parts of our body¸ does not have quite the same firmness and elasticity as it did when we were in our teens or our twenties. However¸ giving birth to a couple of kids or making an amendment as to what age we now consider to be middle age¸ along with its spread¸ are always acceptable explanations that can be used as valid excuses. So why worry too much about it? Besides¸ some of us are lucky enough not to apparent our age and that being all thanks to Mother Nature not a “tried and tested" or even “clinically proved" face cream.
Unfortunately it’s all too easily said than done. For on cruising through our thirties we are now subject to constant reminders that we are slowly but surely “getting old". Grey hairs make a continued appearance even if whites ones don’t¸ the biological clock now has an annoying tick as well as a regular alarm¸ the 25-30 years old box on a simple questionnaire form no longer accepts our x and on changing jobs we now find that it is not our diplomas that make us over qualified but rather our age.
So¸ what are we to do? Well¸ there really is nothing that we can do apart from accumulate more years and as we do¸ make sure we cover up the part of our label that will eventually indicate...our expiry!
Article submitted Wednesday, February 09, 2005 & read 376 times.
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