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!

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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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