Girls who wear glasses

In another sign that middle-age is making its indelible mark on me … other than my sudden fascination with river cruising … I’ve been forced to start wearing my glasses when using the computer.

I’d been managing up until recently without them, but I finally admitted to myself that I was having to squint to read stuff.

Things on screen are suddenly looking miraculously clearer.

Previously my short-sighted glasses had a permanent place on the pillow next to me in bed, so I could see the words on my phone screen when I was scrolling late at night and early in the morning.

As per the selfie above.

They really need to be in my handbag as well so I can read ingredients lists on packets at the supermarket. Without them I have no hope.

Next sensible move is to get my left hip scanned to check if it is riddled with arthritis. It is very stiff and I can no longer lie on it at night – I’ve had to train myself to sleep on my back.

On the positive side – knock on wood – I am not on any prescription medications, which I reckon is pretty good for my age.

Still, I find myself chafing at the toll time is taking.

While I am happy having the mind and experience of a 55 year old, I hate having the body of one.

The wrinkles are a shocker. They horrify me every time I see a photo of myself.

And I can’t seem to find the strength to get my expanding girth under control.

I am getting so chonky that I feel a little ashamed.

The evidence was on undeniable display as I stood beside my tall, lithe, tanned daughter for a pre formal photo this week.

Youth is wasted on the young.

We don’t know what we’ve got til it’s gone and all that jazz.

However, it has been very amusing to show off the youngest’s formal photo to people who don’t know her.

“That’s your daughter??”

They struggle to keep the incredulousness out of their voices.