Jamileh is 62

I have not blogged for a while. I will not give the excuse that have too much to do. It is the time that is shrinking and I am definitely getting much slower. The fact that the blog is not attracting any interest is also depressing. But here is the contribution of a 62 years old woman.

Jamileh’s Reflections

That’s it! There is no doubt about it, I am checking it all the time, looking at myself more and more in the mirror, continuously catching fleeting sights of myself in shops, tubes, windows, anywhere I can find a reflection, I must admit, I am now old. Like real old! This has been the shocking revelation of 2012 for me.

The only looks I get nowadays, and occasionally, are from young women giving me a warm smile, maybe I remind them of their own mother, grandmother even! Or maybe they are thinking “oh this is an interesting looking old lady, I won’t mind growing old like her” (I wish!!)

As for the old men-toads, rien du tout! They are still looking for the young beautiful princesses that will kiss them. They still think they have a grand tail to parade around.

So what happens now?

I can detect in some of my contemporary women friends a denial of old age. They pull a face when I mention joining U3A: “aren’t they all old?” This week the local gym advertised a class for the over 50s. There was only one participant: ME. The coach sighed and said: “well I told them not to advertise it like that because no one here wants to join a class that is going to tell their age”.

I could do the same, deny, deny and deny…make myself up, spend loads on anti wrinkle stuff, white teeth, hair dresser dye and carry on living in the mirage wonderland of youth or… admit, accept, mold myself into this new age with all its huge changes, and they are huge, as huge as adolescence without the pleasure of youthfulness.Big changes, physical, mental, emotional and sexual, not counting the fears and uncertainties in a society that is getting more and more ageist and individualistic. Fear of death, how and when will it happen? Of the future, how will I end up? Who will look after me?

And now to bed with my two hot water bottles. Ahhhhhh.

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