>> You put your back out doing gardening.
>> When you go to the physio to have it fixed she presumes: “So, you have adult children?”
>> You have to wear a girdle every day to keep your pelvis together after your gardening accident.
>> Even before your gardening accident, your body was aching when you got out of bed in the morning.
>> You make little groaning noises when you get out of chairs. (Also pre-gardening accident.)
>> You start writing blog posts with the title Send Me To The Knackery and Letting Myself Go.
>> The bits of you that require plucking quadruple.
>> A tall, handsome Dr Chris Brown type asks what the next bus number is while you’re queued at the bus stop, because he’s forgotten his glasses. And you know it’s not a pick-up line.
>> The “business men” on the bus look like they should be carrying school backpacks, not briefcases.
>> You sigh when you fill out forms and have to tick the 40-54 box.
>> 10pm is a “late night”.
>> You don’t go to concerts during the week because you’d get home too late on a work night.
>> 50-year-old men start looking REALLY HOT.
>> You arrive at a girls’ night out at 9.30pm and everyone has already gone home.
>> Meeting for tea instead of champagne becomes your regular form of social interaction.
>> You know being “body positive” is a great message, but you’d really like to lose a few kilos.
>> Fried food gives you heartburn.
>> You should really give up fried food because of the “body negative” business, but your willpower seems to be slipping away with the years.
>> Next year – at 46 – the official number of calories your body requires for the day will reduce by 200 to 1800.
>> You have no idea what the number one song is … or why the hell anyone cares that Redfoo might be moving to Sydney.
>> You’re not quite sure what SnapChat is … but you have a sinking suspicion you need to find out because you have a tween.
>> You get prim about swearing on social media.
>> You resolve that you’re too old to go on short overseas jaunts because “the jetlag knocks you around too much these days”.
>> Bank tellers mistake you for someone born in the 1930s (because they still have the details from the granny who was queued before you on their screen). Further depressing details at Ouch.
And finally, for any bright young things out there who want to know what you’ll LOOK like in 20 years, now that I’ve told you how you’ll FEEL … here’s a website that ages you, called http://www.in20yearstime.com. I couldn’t resist trying it, being in a self-flagellating mood. Here are the results. (I like how they ask if you’re a drug addict before they make you over.)
Any more signs to add?
housegoeshome 
Yes to everyone of these.
Sigh! Sucky huh?