Feeling Frumpy

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About 15 years ago it came as quite a shock when I realised that the soft slapping noise following me around was my bum banging on the back of my knees, I comforted myself with the thought that long as I had spanx I could get through it right? Except what has followed is much worse.

This latest ageing dilemma started several months ago when it started taking me ages to get ready. It’s not that I haven’t decided what to wear but every time I put on an outfit which in my head is cute and quirky, I find a frumpy and middle-aged woman looking back at me in the mirror.

Everything is looking MUMSY!!

I have been inspecting the suspected crime scene that is my face to confirm if this is indeed the nerve centre of the middle aged aura. Is it the hooded eyes, the crows feet or the droopy mouth that are the perpetrators of this ageist violation, or just a deluxe combo of all 3. And the findings? I’m running out of plump in all the important places. My juicy face fat has slid down to my ever burgeoning midriff. What was once moist is now dessicated, curves replaced by crepe and perky overtaken by limpness.

That very essence of youth, the dewy plumpness that oozes from every pore of the young has seeped out of me when I wasn’t looking. Youth has left me like a one a night stand. No apologies, no phone calls, or plans to pop in again – just gone. I feel abandoned, the longest relationship I ever had was with my youth. So I creep into this new era feeling dowdy and apologetic for my lack of plump and join all those other lovely ladies in their 40’s who feel exactly the same way.

In the sweet shop of life where once I was a juicy fruit I have become a liquorice lace and it takes a bit of getting used to. It has also made me realise that as I now look like a member of the WI I need to seriously up-skill my baking abilities.

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