Grow A Pair


Two weeks ago I turned 50.

Now, I know that many people dread that milestone, while others don’t care one way or another. Me? I’m grabbing and running with it. Woo hoo – I get to be an adult whether people like the way I do it or not. You can criticise my technique but you can’t argue with the chronology, buddy!

I get to grow old and I get to do it however I want to. Grumpy or smiley, I can do it with impunity, for now I am a senior citizen. Going by what friends have experienced I’ll soon get those lovely letters from the Government to prove that I’m 50, which cordially invite me to get a titty squash and jobbie assessment to make sure I don’t have breast or bowel cancer. Such fun!

And if I want further proof that I’m a senior citizen I need only walk past the Norwood Senior Citizens club and read the sign out at the front door that tells me that Tuesday and Friday afternoons are for the ‘Over 50s’. (Note – the first time I realised that this may apply to me I shuddered.)

It’s a strange situation; I’d always pictured someone who goes to these clubs to be self-admitting themselves to God’s waiting room. I don’t actually know of anyone over 50 who has time to attend one of their sessions. Everyone I know who has passed their golden jubilee is far too busy either enjoying their increasing freedom as the kids leave home or they’re starting new careers.

Is it a Baby Boomer thing? That we shall never knowingly grow old and doddery like our forbears? Or is it a continuation of the ‘I Want and I Shall Have’ mentality that refuses to give up getting until we’re falling down?

For me, I know it’s the absolute fascination of ‘I’ve got this far and I’m not dead yet!’ feeling, and wondering how much further I can push my abilities and courage.

It’s got a lot to do with courage. I’ve spent a lot of my earlier life being fearful – a reflection of the way I was brought up. But I’ve found those fears to be unfounded so with renewed confidence I grab my 50 returns of the sun and plough off into territory that is new, exciting, and is filled with infinite possibilities.

Happy birthday to me, and to my decision to ‘grow a pair’.

And if I can do it, so can you!

Five ways I know I’m now 50

1. I’ve started to be very selective with how I spend my time and who I spend it with.
2. I like to be home at ‘a decent hour’ and I don’t like being out two nights in a row.
3. I eat weetbix for ‘digestive health’.
4. I am coming to understand the concept of ‘spare wine’.
5. I listen to ABC radio. By choice. And enjoy it!

2 thoughts on “Grow A Pair

  1. I love getting older – with the years come wisdom and it is a real joy to live life in a far more insightful and peaceful way that I once thought to be beyond me. It has taken thirty years to come to terms with the first twenty; but when the first twenty included enough horror to curdle milk then that's no surprise. At 51 I feel as if I have reached a point of resolution and continuing promise. Not all of this is down to simply ageing, I agree. There are plenty of embittered over 50's out there! But for me, all those years of meditation, aspiration, mistakes and insights have matured into a way of living that doesn't much care about my age or my life circumstances. Which includes incurable chronic pain for the last eighteen years. None of that matters any more. Even my childhood nightmare memories have all become transformed through the experience that has come with the years. Ageing? bring it on!

  2. Exactly, Larry. It seems we were brought up with a certain unnamed dread of being older and nobody told us how good it would actually be. I'm loving it and I wouldn't be 20 again for quids!

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