Something happened over the weekend that made me feel very, very old.
It wasn’t the realisation that I am turning 54 this month, or that my ankles hurt when my feet touch the ground for the first time each morning, or that my chest skin looks crepey in selfies, or that my red hair has gone grey.
Speaking of grey hair … I accidentally texted the wrong – and quite startled – Mel with the offer of a Monday night of “roots and Aperol Spritz”.
The last time I texted the wrong Mel was when we worked together in, like, 2017 or something.
The right Mel knew I was referring to us having a rendezvous with a hair colour kit and some bonus booze … gawd knows what the other Mel, a former colleague, thought I was offering her …
Anyways … while all that stuff has been fairly harrowing, things took a major turn for the geriatric worst when the “RealBrianCadd” followed me on Instagram.
While I may be on the wrong side of 50 alongside Brian – about the only bell he rang with me was that he was a famous musician. I had to look him up on Google, which informed me he was a “bona fide music legend” and listed his hits. That wasn’t much help – I still can’t hum any of them. Although, did he sing the original “Little ray of sunshine” or was it a cover?
I also felt a bit sorry for Brian at first because he was only getting seven likes on each of his Instagram posts – that’s a bit of a kick in the teeth for a bona fide music legend.
Then I became a bit suspicious that the actual Brian hadn’t been entranced by my middle-aged beauty and superior selfie skills.
Among the hints that the “RealBrianCadd” might not be the actual Brian Cadd were that I followed the link on his official website to his Instagram page – it gets around 170 more likes for each post than the imposter. Still not mind blowing numbers, but a little more impressive.
The RealBrianCadd’s followers were another dead giveaway, as I’m pretty sure Naughty Sheikh and TurkiBoy685 and their mates aren’t big Brian fans.
I reckon there’s a rat cunning scam artist out there who has decided women over 50 might be dazzled by being followed by a famed 75-year-old muso.
Sigh. As if the wrinkles and third bowel cancer test in the mail weren’t confronting enough, I’m now being targeted by age-appropriate scamming.
Next thing you know, Facebook will be putting walkers in my news feed.
Coincidentally, I wrote about scam artists last week, when the eldest was tricked into putting down a deposit on a modelling course.
When I shared the post about it on Facebook, my friend Abigail noted that “as soon as I took my middle aged lady profile photo off my Insta, the DMs from albeit hot bearded men stopped”.
My former colleague Beryl added: “I had to withdraw a largish sum of cash this week so went to my bank rather than an ATM. The teller quietly quizzed me – was this money for someone who promised to do work my house needed, were they waiting outside, and so on. I’m clearly in my late seventies and was impressed that the staff are told to be alert.”
There are some deplorable people out there, but god bless that bank staffer for going above and beyond the call of duty.
So, anyways, I haven’t followed the RealBrianCadd back.
The RealBrianCadd can sod off.
Turning 54 can sod off too.
Although, nights of roots and Aperol Spritz are quite tolerable when you finally get your Mels right.
Song of the day: Brian Cadd “Ginger man/Little ray of sunshine”
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