7 annoying things about being 47 (and taco salad)

There are waaaaaay more than 7 annoying things about being 47, but the digital attention span is quite short, so I’ve stuck to the topline.

1. Having enough pimples to rival a 14-year-old

What’s THAT all about Universe? It’s. Not. Fair. But then, as the eldest tween’s teacher told her class recently: “Life’s not fair.”

Nope, can’t let it go. Teenagers have pimples because they’re raging hormone factories. Forty-seven-year-olds have pimples, I presume, because they’re raging hormone factories too.

In the case of teenagers, those hormones are turning them into adults. In the case of 47-year-olds, those hormones are turning them into peri-menopausal husks.

Sigh.

2. Having enough stray hairs to rival this cactus …

cactus

Tweezers are my new best friend. I carry a pair with me everywhere.

Sigh.

3. Needing those funny spectacles you buy at the chemist …

… So I can see all those stray hairs to pluck them.

The last time I got my eyes tested, the optometrist suggested bifocals.

Bi-freaking-focals.

My refusal was lightning quick and borderline screechy. But geez it started getting hard to see stray hairs, thread needles, remove ticks from warm places on the children …

So I snuck to a chemist recently and bought myself some cheapy 2X glasses.

Sigh.

4. Waking at 5am every morning and nodding off around 9.30pm every night

Those are OLD WOMAN hours. They are cruel. They are anti-social.

I lay in the dark at 5am wishing I could get back to sleep … especially on Saturdays … but the need to wee and worry is too strong.

Sigh

5. Paying $140 every six weeks to dye my skunk stripe

Redheads don’t grey gracefully. My mother was a brunette and she went the most stunning silvery colour. Me, I’m all faded and salt and peppery. The Cinta henna shampoo finally stopped doing the trick about two years ago and – after a few botched home dye jobs – I acquired a colourist.

Much as I love my colourist, I hate spending two and a half hours – and $140 – every six weeks returning my hair to as close as its natural shade as possible.

Sigh.

6. Sagging boobs

I can remember being quietly proud at age 35 that I could wear a T-shirt without a bra because my boobs were so perky (possibly helped by the fact they were so small).

Post two babies, I’m a 12C (after shrinking from a 14D on the divorce diet). It sounds all wench-like, but doesn’t look it unless the boobs have been gathered together and hefted into a push-up bra.

When I have PMT (another cruel trick for nature to still be playing on a woman in her late 40s) and release them from the bra at night … yeow … it feels like I’ve thrown them over a cliff and they’ve gone splat at the bottom.

All those lovely sun frocks with skinny straps are dead to me. Because if I go bra-less and someone snaps a photo, I recoil in horror at the ski-slope of my cleavage.

Sigh.

7. Having my womb pack it in

My womb has been through a lot with me over the years. I spent 30 years of my life having the most horrific period pain. I had CIN1 of the cervix in my 20s. It housed two ginormous babies in my 30s. And now, in my 40s, it’s decided to pack it in.

Last month I got it blow-torched in an attempt to avoid a hysterectomy. But the spectre of major abdominal surgery still looms.

Sigh.

And another thing …

At 47 you’re also supposed to consume less kilojoules because you’re metabolism is slower than it used to be … Boooooo!

But I’ve become addicted to pasta and chocolate and bread and all the other naughty stuff I couldn’t eat when I had a disaccaride deficiency

Me and my bikini will be breaking up soon at this rate.

I’ve always been a bit low rent with my food – my ex used to describe me as a “gourmand” – and I still gravitate towards the tacky. Give me a tasty neighbourhood joint over a fancy night out any day.

Same goes for the home cooking. Since breaking up with my husband, I’ve gone back to basics: sausages, chicken schnitzel, bacon laced pasta …

Dinner last night was a texy-mexy treat that the eldest gobbled up (I had to serve the youngest a deconstructed version, fuss budget).

Here’s the recipe …

Recipe: Taco Salad

taco

500g beef mince

1pkt taco seasoning

1 lettuce, shredded

3 tomatoes, deseeded and chopped

1 small jar sliced kalamata olives

1 cup grated cheddar cheese

2 avocados, diced

1/2 red onion finely chopped

400g can mixed beans

200ml ranch dressing

couple of handfuls of plain corn chips, roughly crumbled

Method: Stir fry the mince until no longer pink. Add the taco seasoning and stir to combine. Simmer for a minute or two then cool. Combine all ingredients in a bowl, toss, serve.

What’s your least favourite thing about getting older? 

Song of the day: Icehouse “Hey little girl”

 

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9 thoughts on “7 annoying things about being 47 (and taco salad)

  1. As someone slightly older (48) agree on all the above. I’d add loss of core strength due to 2 Caesars which results in lower back problems after the slightest exertion. Still, in 20 years time we’ll look back and think we were spring chickens.

  2. Hahahah, I love the stray hair thing…nose hairs are THE worst! But I have a ripper little pencil-shaped electric razor for those wispy little buggers!
    Oh, and just wait another 10 years…you start to have trouble remembering stuff and THAT’S even more troubling than the stray hairs. Aaaarghh! 🙂

  3. You crack me up. You make the secret horrors of being 40+ seem normal & funny: quite a skill. Thank you. Let me know if you find a magical cure for all old lady ailments. In the mean time, pls pass the tweezers & meaty salad….

  4. I’ve got five years on you and I’m still getting pimples. Nasty, blind ones that hide themselves in my ear or next to my nose. Still getting periods too and I’m pretty sure I got my first hot flush while in the throes of period pain. That’s just not fair!

  5. I just got my first pair of reading glasses at 45. I finally admitted defeat after two years of people telling me for years to “get your eyes tested!” Needing to pull out a giant magnifying glass to read instructions/use by dates/the TV guide etc is not a good sign. And I am familiar with most of those other things in your list, especially the skunk stripe. Except my colourist charges more than that – hence I’m a bit skunk-stripey at the moment!

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