What’s happening to me???

I think I’m becoming a “woman of a certain age”. I’ve been admiring “woman of a certain age” boutiques. There’s one in every middle-class shopping strip. They’re filled with scented candles, chunky jewellery and vaguely ethnic fashions. I gaze at the dresses in the window and think “ooooh, what a gorgeous colour!” and “my, such lovely embroidery!”. I fantasise about trying things on. I imagine how casually elegant I’d look. But I just can’t do it. Because if I did, it’d be admitting I’ve become a woman of a certain age. I mean, these clothes aren’t from Marc By Marc Jacobs or Abercrombie & Fitch or even Sportsgirl. They’re some hippy-dippy shopkeeper’s idea of middle-class chic. Some even have pom-poms stitched around their necklines. Yes, yes, I know, I was admiring a skirt with pom-poms at Christmas. But that was at Country Road. That’s different. Country Road used to be a woman-of-a-certain-age label, but it’s totally rebranded itself. It’s classic and timeless now … Nooooo, what’s happening to me? I’m defending classic and timeless with pom-poms. It doesn’t stop there. I wear comfortable shoes all the time, even/especially when I go out. I get annoyed when the Not So Neighbourly Neighbours throw parties that go until – goddamn them – 11pm. I went to bed at 9pm last night. I rubbed my heels with Eulactol and slept in socks to assist the healing process. I use toothpaste for sensitive teeth. There’s all this extra plucking to be done. I drink tea while watching period dramas on the telly. I’m going on a cruise for my next holiday. I’m excited about The Village People impersonators on-board. And the buffet. I’m embarking early to have the lunch buffet before we sail. If I won $100,000 in the lottery I’d spend it on window coverings. And a spa. And an above-ground pool. And another cruise, to New Zealand at Christmas. Oh. God. No. I’m not even a classy woman of a certain age. I’m a daggy one.