All posts tagged: 40

As Good As It Gets

When you are a young child, you talk about what you would like to be when you grow up. You dream big – astronaut, writer, doctor, fireman, landscape gardener, gymnast, politician, deep-sea diver, rock star, teacher, Queen of your own country; or perhaps even all of the above… *coughs* As you enter your teenage years, maybe you start to think about who you will marry.  In my case, it was Michael J Fox and briefly Ralph Macchio, circa The Karate Kid Part 1. Or maybe you will decide that marriage is an outdated institution and not for you at all. I swayed between the two for many years. You explore yourself. You get a sense of who you will become and perhaps more importantly, who you will not. I quickly realised I did not have the education or patience to be a teacher, a doctor, or an astronaut. I did not have the courage of a fireman or a deep-sea diver, the flexibility of a gymnast, or the bloodline to be Queen. I did not have …

The One With the Birthday Surprise

The day after Zachy was born, I celebrated my 36th birthday. Only with all the excitement of a new baby in the family and as I was still recovering in hospital following an emergency C-section, my big 3-6 took a bit of a backseat that year. The next year, my baby turned one and that kind of trumped my boring 37. When he turned 2 and 3, we were on holiday in Crete.  I celebrated my 38th birthday on a beach, with a packet of cheese & onion crisps and a diet coke. The Greek God(zilla) took me out for dinner to a gorgeous restaurant later that evening and we loved it so much, we went back there again for my 39th birthday.  As nice as they have been, it is probably fair to say that for the past few years, my birthday celebrations have been somewhat low-key affairs. But 40 is different.  Everyone expects you to do something BIG.  There is more expectation for you to have a good time on your 40th than there …

The First Day of August

The first day of August, the month in which I will turn 40. Well, that has crept up on me rather quickly I have to say.  I wanted to make a list of all the things I hoped to achieve before my birthday, but I totally forgot, so now will have to wait until my 50th to learn a new language, play an instrument and jump out of a plane… I have ten years (& 3-weeks) to think of an excuse to get out of that last one. I am however, about to embark on a completely new journey.  For the first time in my adult life, I will not be in, or trying to be in, full-time employment. I will also have to cut back on some of the luxuries I have been able to justify while earning my own crust.  Like, popping to the hairdresser every 7-weeks to have a glossy brown tint pasted all over my bright grey roots.  I will have to make do with running two coats of waterproof mascara …

The best is yet to come

In 3-months time, I will turn 40.  I am surprisingly ok with it, looking forward to it even. I wish I had felt this calm about turning 30, but at the time it literally felt like the worst thing that could have happened to me, like, EVER. I was not ready to turn 30.  I had not achieved any of the things that I assumed I would.  I did not like my job, my semi-boyfriend, or my hair.  I spent every penny I earned on myself, and complained about never having any money to spend on myself. If only I could go back in time, I would give myself a jolly good talking to.  Tell myself that the best is yet to come. Of course, my 29-year old self would laugh in my face and offer me a glass of wine, which my 39-year old self would refuse because it is the middle of the afternoon and I have to work the next day. She would look me up and down, in my ballet flats and mum jeans, and want to …

The Big 4-0

I turn 40 this year. Oh yes. What a complete head wreck that is. How did this happen to me? I am sure that the last time I looked, I was 28, living in Maida Vale and still shaving my legs every day. I worked for an advertising agency, straightened my hair and wore heels.  Not just when I got to the office either – I actually wore them for the whole commute DOOR.TO.DOOR. Yes, I was hardcore like that. I went out drinking in Soho 3 or 4 nights a week.  I travelled everywhere by black cab.  I functioned brilliantly on 5 hours sleep a night. But that was when my hangovers only lasted half a day, not half a week. Life was bloody fabulous.  I thought that I was pretty fabulous back then too, but I was also pretty drunk for most of it… I talk about it like it was yesterday but that is only because it still feels like it was. But the cold, hard truth of it is that come …