I haven’t written for awhile.
My Uncle George slipped away to the other side to be with his beloved Patricia a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve found it hard to write anything since. I couldn’t even find the words for his family….my cousins. Its all too real, this dying business. Its painful, and its final. I’m much more comfortable with the reality and probability of my own death than I am participating in the mourning of others. Maybe it’s all connected for me and witnessing their pain is like looking into a crystal ball at my own family’s grief. Unbearable.
I would like to write some words of thanks to my Uncle George. We didn’t see much of Pat and George in the past 25 years…its like that sometimes in families, but he gave me some pretty awesome cousins and consciously or not, he encouraged our relationship and I want to thank him for that.
As a little girl one of my clearest memories is of the excitement that a visit from my cousins Sharry and Kris would bring….it was like a visit from the freakin’ royal family! They were always dressed up so pretty with things in their hair and matching jewellery. The only thing I had in my hair back then was a cowlick and a few knots but far from being jealous of their adornments I would knock myself out trying to make them happy and get them to love me as much as I loved them…. of course I haven’t forgotten David, Paul and Lee, but they were younger. And less important to me back then! (note to mum…don’t worry ma I know i wasn’t the hair clip type of kid and i liked my knots…)
As we got older I had more to do with Shaz and Kris and i didn’t have to try so hard to get them to love me back. Our time together as teenagers was a blast. They got to know my peeps, we got to know theirs and a friendship developed that is unlike any other because they are your family, connected by grandparents and christmas’s and childhood secrets and love.
We are still close. I couldn’t imagine my life without Kristen. We can go months without contact but when I see her my heart soars, just like I am that little girl again. I am fortunate enough to have this bond, these very special relationships because of you Uncle George, you and Pat….so I thank you both with all my heart. I’m sure if my memory was more efficient I would be able to dig out some more personal moments in time, but my 5 cousins was more than enough….
On another note entirely…. I very discreetly and without fanfare turned 49 last week.
49….is like almost 50…. (or is it? I feel like there is a dog year between the two…wishful thinking?)
The thing is my BF is 44. Lets just take a moment, because i rolled that out like a Kardashian, “my Bf is like…” but having spent almost 30 years with someone, I haven’t used the word boyfriend since 1982.
I have a boyfriend. And he is 44. lol. I might have to say that a few times.
5 years doesn’t seem like much of a gap. But 44 is still young, just over 40, and I’m almost yeh we have covered that.
44 yr old men can still pick up 30 somethings….they can even attract the odd 20 something with Daddy issues
So is it time to find me my own cosmetic surgeon? should i be exploring the world of derma fillerupperers, injectable toxins and non surgical surgery? should i be googling breast augmentation to bring my girls back to life or get onto the latest craze that is labiaplasty – giving my vagigi a bit of a nip and tuck??? Fucking oooouuuuch!! (are your legs crossing over right now?)
Not that there is the slightest murmur from BF himself (my ex made more fuss about my aging process the prick.) But is BF just being polite…. does he have nightmares of waking up to that sunbaked woman from Something About Mary?
I have managed to divert his attention from my biological age by acting much of the time like a very mature 16 year old, making him feel like the responsible one, the grown up. its not an act, I actually feel younger when I hang out with him… But feeling young is one thing, looking young is quite another – and unlike my behaviour, its completely out of my control.
I can’t look at myself objectively. I don’t know what other people see. I will sometimes look at women of my vintage and do a quick 5 point comparison analysis…(eyes lips hair neck hands) with normal people wandering around in supermarkets, not celebrities in magazines.. but with all the procedures available (see above) its getting harder to pick my vintage. Often its the way a woman dresses or presents herself that gives her age away…so i do make an effort not to do ‘dowdy’ when selecting my days attire…but does that work? is that enough to disguise the crows feet and laughter lines? Or am i risking going too far in the other direction and have the mutton lamb thing going on?
This is not a subject I have ever been inclined to draw attention to before…who wants to analyse the deterioration of the part of the anatomy that represents who you are? I would prefer to go about my business assuming I haven’t changed at all since 1994. But Im not naive enough to think that by not talking about my degeneration no one else will notice it….so i may as well blog about it.
I’m not afraid of aging. Of course having cancer helps allay that fear – I’m actually more likely to die than get old!! (sorry Ma, I know thats not funny for you) but come on, there has to be an upside to cancer right?? I think it would have become an issue for me had I still been with my ex… his immaturity, combined with his fucking ageless European/ Arabic gene pool meant it was only a matter of time before it was assumed I was his mother and not his wife…
I think the secret to looking and feeling young might be as simple as confidence. Not Kardashian|Kanye kind of selfie obsessed confidence, but the kind that comes from realising that a smile will impress way more than a face lift….. the confidence you get when you feel loved for the person you are on the inside regardless of the deepening of your laughter lines…the confidence you get when you drop the bullshit boring and benign concern with having the approval of people who have no place judging you…the confidence you get when you embrace a glass is half full attitude to life and feel genuine gratitude for your imperfect face….