I had a lovely birthday yesterday with my son, topped off with a rather pleasant Thai meal. Very many thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes!!
And today – well, I’d like to think I don’t look a day over 59…
I don’t feel 59. Or rather I don’t think I feel how I think 59 is supposed to feel. If I’m honest, I suppose I think 59 is ‘past it’, ‘over the hill’ – but that’s not how I feel within myself. I really can’t be bothered to feel like that. I still feel like I have a lot to offer, I feel like life is good.
In some ways things are just beginning – I just started a new job less than 3 months ago, I’m still learning it, but I’m loving it. And I’ve barely started on this new journey of being me, by myself, on my own. I’m liking it so far.
The shocking thing is that I’ll be 60 this time next year. How the hell did that happen??
Although I feel no different inside, there is a growing noise, with every year that passes, of ‘society’ telling me how I should look, feel and behave. It starts at 55, when they start targeting you for stairlift ads, funeral plans, Saga holidays – and you begin to wonder if that’s just how things should be now. But no. Sod that!!
And I think, even though it’s a few years now since the State Pension age changed, we still sort of subconsciously think women retire at 60. So once upon a time I would have had just one year left to go – but now my retirement age is 66. And that’s OK – I feel like I’ve got at least 7 years left in me. I can do a lot in 7 years. And of course I’m making the huge assumption that retirement age will still be 66 by the time I’m 66!!
As I said before – age is just a number. It doesn’t have to mean anything. 59 is the oldest I’ve ever been. I was 17 once (although only for a year…). Ditto 21, 33, 45… and so on.
And 59 is the youngest I will ever be again. There will come a time when I will look back at 59 and remember how young I was back then!
I’ve chosen to be upfront about my age. I won’t lie about it – and I’m not going to be coy about it either. I’m not going to avoid telling people. Very many years ago, a friend of mine pointed out that if women don’t admit to their age, the rest of us won’t be able to gauge accurately what any particular age looks like or behaves like.
So I’m going to say it loud and say it proud – I’m 59, and it’s fine.
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