Fleecy Forties

My younger self would raise an eyebrow if she saw me today. In my teens I wore sky high heels, skin tight jeans or micro skirts with bleached hair and wanted to party every night. During my twenties, I worked in the city and loved to go for drinks after work, meals out and parties at the weekends. In my thirties, I was a mother and raising two daughters but also finding time to go out for meals with friends whenever I could and keeping up with fashion. I was a stone lighter way back then.

Move on a decade and I'm living in the semi-rural countryside and have dyed my hair a more sensible chestnut brown. I wear glasses and own two dogs. I never wanted this. I came here kicking and screaming at my husband's wish for the dream of the good life, away from the suburbs and down a country lane. But, even though I never wanted to be that person who wears a fleece and hugs their dogs, that is who I have most definitely become.

The thing is, I don't care anymore. It's not that I've let myself go...even though some people may think that I have...it is accepting that this is who I am now. This is who I morphed into. Try as I did to not let it happen, it eventually did. I evolved into this and I can honestly say, I have never been happier. I love my forties. To be fair, there aren't many years left of them but I am looking forward to my fifties too. In fact, I'm looking forward to every day of my life from now on.

At a time where people are more obsessed than ever at looking younger and eradicating every last sign of ageing, I am happy that I'm middle-aged. I never lie about my age and never have. What's the point? I had some fun times in my teens, twenties and thirties but I love my forties and getting older. I feel more me. I've grown into myself. I'm content. Whereas, I used to love going clubbing until the early hours, I now prefer walking, gardening, reading, and yoga.

Getting older is underrated. I mean, what's the alternative to ageing? Death!