Undeniable Signs of Aging

When do we stop growing 'up' and begin to grow 'old'? 

Is it when kids expose the obvious generation gap between you and them by addressing you  as 'Madam' / 'Sir'?

In my particular case, there was that (aren't kids lovely? - sense the irony there) but most importantly, what the event triggered: acceptance. Admitting to myself that, although I still love doing some of the same things that I did years ago ("but I'm not old! I still like to do what young people do!"), the reasons for doing them couldn't diverge more.

Here is what I'm talking about: 

1. Dyeing my hair

'Sunkissed brown', 'golden bronze', 'deep copper'... My hair has seen (and in some cases suffered) a wide range of shades and highlights.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: new looks

   · Now: new greys

2. Wearing my headphones on the go

During my daily bus commute, walking around town, at work...My headphones plugged in to walkman (yes, I'm that old) > discman (told you I am!)) > ipod > and now phone.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: listening to brand new hits

   · Now: cancel the noise of world - I confess: there times when no music is coming out of them :)

3. Longing for the weekend
All week waiting for Friday, thinking about the free days to come.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: Go out with friends till dawn and go out again the following day.

   · Now: Curl up under a blanket on the couch with a good book and a hot tea. My weekend plans are the best!

What makes you feel your age?

Think Twice Before Growing Up

Deluded. No other word to express how I feel living my adult life.

Why was I so keen on growing up? Why did I keep stressing that I wasn't 7, but 7 and a half? Why did I wear make up to conceal my real age to bouncers in clubs? Why did I search for opportunities to run away from my parents' protective wings? How can I go back there again?  

Let me tell you one thing: growing up sucks! Excuse my language, but it does. Why?

1. Emotions need to be controlled
The other day in the supermarket I saw a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of the fruit and vegetable section. He was lying on the floor, stamping strongly hands and feet and refusing to respond to his embarrassed mother. Other shoppers were annoyed by the shouting or felt sorry for the parent. Not me. I was jealous, wishing I could do just the same thing and release all my anger on the cold tiles. But no, as an adult you instead have to bite your tongue, eat your nails and lose sleep when things don't go your way.

2. Thoughts are filtered before being spoken
Growing up didn't blind me from your ridiculous narcissism or your need to judge others based on the brand they wear and the car they have. My head might nod and my mouth might hum, but my mind still thinks you're plain stupid (excuse my language , but you are).

3. Time has meaning
My 2 year old niece wakes up in the morning not knowing whether she has to go to nursery or can enjoy her parent's company the whole day. Whatever day of the week it ends up being, she enjoys every second of it until bath time leads her on to sleep.One day after the other. There is no past or future, she only knows the here and the now. It's all about the past and the future for me. I'm dreading tomorrow Monday (future) thinking where did the weekend go (past) and already thinking of the hours of sleep that I'll get tonight (future) having had a sleep-in this morning (past).

4. You are legally obliged to do stuff
OMG the amount of administrative tasks you have to go through as an adult! Taxes, health insurance, mortgage, credit card, registering to vote, issue internet and phone contracts... The list goes on and on and never gets less boring. Why didn't I enjoy more living at home with my parents and just 'being'?

Children of the world, be warned: the freedom of adulthood is just a myth.

Stages in Life

My extended family only get together in two yearly occasions: Christmas and my Grandma's birthday. With still some months to the former, we met this week to celebrate the latter. Four generations around 86 candles, which were heroically blown by the woman who has given birth to no less than 10 children! You can now more realistically picture the amount of attendants to the event (and know the reason why we don't meet more often...). With four generations present on the night, there were representatives of all ages, giving me the opportunity of seeing life through their eyes for the duration of our conversation. All having a completely different view of the same world we all live in...

After gathering bits and pieces of the night, I reached the conclusion that life is lived in 4 different stages.

1. Flowing Life

Ages: newborn - 14

These are the years where you 'go with the flow'. Your parents determine your days, when and where you come and go, what times you eat or what you buy. You have little sense of time or perspective. Life is lived through others. At the end of this phase and after a bad hormonal kick, your environment becomes your war and you take up arms against literally everything. 

2. Theoretical Life

Ages: 15 - 29

Not liking anything in your life, you begin to imagine the great things that you fail to have and start to cook up the great plan that will lead you to a life of rainbows. You make being a free spirit your life purpose and firmly believe that all you want in life is to burn bridges and travel around the world with no other baggage than your own soul. And because anything that remotely resembles a responsibility is a clear threat to your plan, you run away from any form of commitment. You picture yourself leading a successful career doing what you love to do.

3. Fall-Rise-Fall-Rise Life

Ages: 30 - 69

But then life gives you a reality check. You realise how difficult things are, the amount of unfairness in this world. And you fall and rise again because there is no other option. And then you fall once more and have to come out from the deepest holes to stand back on your two feet; until you're knocked right out again. And rise. And fall. And rise...You become wiser and gaining a privileged perspective that leads on to the following stage.

4. Observant Life

Ages: 70 and above

With a tired body and an experienced soul, you become to live life through others (family, friends, acquaintances, actors, strangers...). Your only problems are theirs and your happiness is to witness their own bliss. 

A Life in Numbers

It has been almost a year since I started this blog; since I made the decision to laugh at myself and life.

Wait, that would make it almost a year since I turned 30! Which can only mean that in a few days time... Oh Lord! Let's just say none of us is getting any younger...

This thought has given me a sudden urge to look back and evaluate (and question) what on earth have I done with all of these days? They escape like sand through my fingers.

Why do we do this? Why do we count things? Why do we enjoy so much keeping track of time to celebrate thresholds? But we do. Even unconsciously we do. I think that that first "when do we arrive?" from the back of our parent's car is what triggers a live constructed around counts...

A life in numbers. My life in numbers:

• 7 months without a drop of Diet Coke - I used to drink an average of 3 cans per day
• 10 hours of sleep - It's Sunday
• 20 minute swim
• 15 items in my shopping list
• 84% of battery in my laptop
• 8 emails in my inbox
• 29 degrees Celsius
• 4 more days to see my niece
• 20:11 of 10th of August of 2014

Would stop counting make it all count?

Letter to Neglected Ageing

Dear increasing number of women,

Allow me to be blunt: that plastic surgery does not make you look younger. It makes you look weird. Chucky-meet-E.T. weird. 

Eyes are meant to blink. Lips should move when you talk. A nose has sides; plural. Your face should allow you to express feelings.

All this re-arranging of skin and bones does my head in.
And don't get me started on other parts of the body... For all the guys out there: if they don't move when we do, they're fake.

My most sincere congratulations if your objective was to confuse people. Chapeau. We don't know when you're angry because you can't frown. We cannot tell if you're happy, because you can't smile. (You can always turn to the "if you're happy and you know it and you really want to show it, if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!")

Plastic surgery does not make you look younger. It makes you look nothing like yourself and exactly the same as all the other women who have had cosmetic surgery done. So alike that I used to think there was only one surgeon in the world creating this new specimen in batche. Why would you want to go voluntarily through this painful surgery? And even do so repeatedly (plastic surgery is like Pringles: "Once you pop, you can't stop"!)?

You would be doing yourself, the ones around you and your pocket a favour if you took another approach to ageing.

Sincerely,
Someone who hopes to look older than her grandchildren.

  

On the Verge

I'm turning 30 in a couple of days.

My social media feed is literally inundated with wedding pictures and cute babies which all my classmates seem to be currently popping out (very politically incorrect use of words, but some are already on their second!). Me? Well, let's see: I'm boyfriend-less, child-less and renting (choosing my words carefully here, since thank to God I'm not 'homeless'). Falling out of the norm has convicted me to a set of society where confusion and questioning oneself reigns. "What am I doing wrong?" I find myself further and further away from those who were once so close, with less and less things in common. Whilst the girl sitting next to me in 2nd grade is engaged delivering a human being into this world, my major accomplishment to date is that I've finally managed to hold my Bakāsana for longer than a second (I know, well done me, right? I mean, it happened once and that still counts). 

I guess I should have stopped comparing myself to others waaaay back. Let's face it: at 5 I was probably eating snots but surely not composing symphonies (Mozart), at 12 I was writing boys names in the back of by school books and not plays (Lope de Vega), and the fake sickness that kept me out of lectures at 19, were never granted with a nomination to the Academy Awards (Leonardo di Caprio).

As the 3.0. version of myself becomes a reality, I've decided to care less and count more. Care less about what other people do (as long as they are happy and don't hurt anyone) and count more blessings. I don't seem to adhere to any 30-year-old stereotype anyway - which, by the way, creates a lot of amusing confusion in people. The other day I was buying cigarettes in Spain (where, literally everyone smokes) and the guy asked for my ID! Didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. It must be the Johnson's baby oil that I diligently use after my daily shower (hey, maybe I do have things to talk about to my toddlers' mums friends!). Other times, I'm taken as ancient for I find true happiness immersed in the pages of a book with a mug of tea in my hand. 

Let the laughing at oneself begin!