My First Grey

Today I had to start admitting that I’m not 28 any more. I’d been largely successful in denying my advancing years by zapping my face with electric currents monthly and wearing cross-body satchels, but the discovery of my first grey today meant I had to finally admit to my bodily decline.

Caryn Franklin

I am 36 by the way.

To be fair, there were other signs that I was no longer a vigorous and vital twenty something.

  • If I’ve been doing an activity in the day, I need a can of red bull to go out in the night time. Red Bull-Fuel for the over thirties.
  • When I hold parties, instead of the fag butts and vomit that was usually left behind in our twenties, now left behind is a navy fleece and a bag for life.
  • I’ve begun wearing ballet pumps as high heels make my feet too sore. Once upon a time I wore sky scraper heels for work, shopping, even sightseeing around New York. There was no fucking way I was wearing flats, and now when I’m shopping for boots anything over 3 inches and I’m scowling like a trapped badger.
  • Highly pigmented eyeshadow makes me look like a drag queen. It’s all ‘dove greys’ and ‘nudes’ now. How exciting!
  • My friends no longer want to go to nightclubs or popular bars because they can’t settle unless they get a seat.
  • I have gardening jeans and decorating jeans. I garden. Not willingly you, understand. I’m not a monster.
  • My jeans are now ‘mid rise’. Want to know what ‘rise’ is? Rise of a jean is how much you can get away with before you show your landing strip. I can no longer take the choking sensation of a pair of low rise skinnies, nor can I be arsed with the worry that one false move and poor onlookers might be privy for more than they bargained for.
  • I have bodyshaping garments in surgical nude colours.
  • I go to Zumba.
  • I enjoy TV programmes about houses, interior decorating and I ‘upcycle’
  • When I tell my husband off, I sound like my Nan. Not even my mother, my NAN.
  • I own a electric belt sander.
  • I have dreams that I’m discovering extra storage in my kitchen and I’m delighted.

Good god, it’s worse than I thought!

Today, I embrace my advancing years. I will be switching my electric blanket on tonight, leaving future parties a 9pm to ‘get settled’ and prepare for everything to become ‘nude’ colour-my make up, my undergarments, my clothes, my flat lace ups. My only comfort, is you are all growing old with me!


One thought on “My First Grey

  1. For heaven’s sake Sheds, pull yourself together. You’re no age. 36? Huh! You’re barely out of your teens. I found my first grey in 1972 when I was 13, so count yourself lucky.
    What I find truly fascinating, and more than a little enchanting, is the fact that you (possibly subconsciously?) link chastising your husband with the possession of a belt sander. You saucy minx you! Gr-r-r!

    p.s. What’s ‘upcycle? Is it something that all the young people are doing nowadays?

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