Fifty kinds of face creams!

Fifty kinds of face creams!

I’m a Mum, so worrying is always at the top of my agenda and courtesy of Coronavirus that agenda just got bigger!

However, these worries took a back step, as I became side-tracked, consumed with a even bigger worry – agonising over how I was going to cope turning 50!  Yep I’m officially the big ‘five ’oh’ what’s scary is just how quickly it’s all happened.

Mentally I still feel like a teenager.  Physically it’s a different story.  Gone are the days of jumping up from the floor to a standing position, that manoeuvre has to be planned these days!

On the positive side, reaching this milestone in lockdown meant I didn’t have to throw a party to rival all parties.   No stressing over guest lists, food, costs, what to wear or spending the night parading as someone embracing 50!

Don’t get me wrong half of me would have loved it the other half would have hated celebrating that half of my life is over!

What was really odd about my birthday was not spending time with family and friends.  It was like a constant game of knock down ginger at mine.  People dropping cards before running away and frantically waving or shouting to me from afar!

Opening my front door and not welcoming people in, felt strange.  On a positive note, at least I didn’t have to spend my birthday cleaning the house in readiness for arrivals.

For some women, turning 50 is full of positivity and new beginnings, they love it! Those chosen few appearing to have it sussed when it comes to nailing 50.  You only have to pick up a magazine or look on the TV to see them looking all dewy and youthful?

Their hair falling wistfully around their face, opening doors to the world in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and shorts, face stripped bare yet looking decidedly fresh, appealing and not 50!

I’ve tried adopting this look, not only does it take time and effort the end result never works out how I envisage.  Sporting an oversized t-shirt, shorts, no makeup and hair falling in clumps just leaves me ready to apologise to anyone unfortunate enough to knock my door.  It’s a look better suited to opening the door in a scene from the movie ‘cabin in the woods’.

Naturally having kids ensures you are never more a couple of minutes away from being reminded of how old you are!

In my house, its an all too familiar tune hearing how I’m too old to be doing that how I’m a boomer along with cries of ‘please don’t say that again’ because, well, because I’m too old to be using ‘young speaky languagy stuff’.  Before questioning whether I’m really about to leave the house ‘wearing that’!

If I could touch on facial hair.  Never in my wildest dreams did I think the day would come when my tweezers would be over worked in areas other than my eyebrows.  I never envisaged myself constantly stroking my face searching for new growth.  Yet here I am doing just that.  As quick as I pluck one, another appears in sympathy somewhere else unbeknown to me until being away from home unable to pluck!

There is nothing more soul destroying in trying to remove an eyelash on my face only to discover it’s a line and going nowhere!  But catching sight of myself in a mirror, well that’s just a whole new level of horror.  Moments such as those leave me with a desperate urge to adopt a better skin care regime.

Grappling with thoughts, regretful about taking my skin for granted back in my youth.  Regretful I never adopted and stuck with a skin routine.  I only ever took my make up if I could be bothered, most of the time the 2 minutes it would have taken was 2 minutes less in bed.  I was lazy.  After all, who thinks about the future, 30 years down the line.

50 kinds of face creams!

I’m left frantically googling ‘age defying creams that actually work’.  My cheap cream ditched in favour of anything promising ‘age defying’ – youthful radiance’ – face lift in a bottle.  Mixing bottles for maximum effect!  I’m on it, stroking and massaging in an upwards motion in some vain hope it will have some effect.

Spending time nourishing my skin, careful to dab my eye cream and not rub before heading off to bed to think lovely thoughts about a new me in the morning.  Waking up to the crushing reality I look no different, often results in scrapping said routine until I catch sight of myself once more.

Its high maintenance and high maintenance has never been at the top of my list.  Don’t get me wrong, I would love to be one of those women at ease with preening oneself and having my nails done.   I’m way too lazy for it all.   It starts off well, but once I realise I have to return to keep everything ticking over – I give up!  It’s tedious.

I would much rather dedicate my time to the dilemma over what chocolate to eat – the strawberry or the orange cream before deciding on both!

I’ve even considered a few tucks before quickly scrapping the idea after another episode of Real Housewives leaves me fearful of looking like I only have one emotion – startled.

I was kind of prepped for being 50 thanks to the onslaught of the menopause.  Being hit hard with changes I could have done without.    Changes indicating I’m ageing.

It’s seems only yesterday, I was in my bedroom cursing the DJ as I tried to tape the top 40.  Knowing all the songs in the top ten and who the artist was.  Today, I have no idea who many of them are, let alone what song is in the charts.  Is the charts even still a thing?

I try not to think about how quick the last 10 years have gone.  It seems only yesterday I was celebrating turning 40 with girlfriends.  The horror of knowing in 10 years I will be 60 is just a realisation how nearer the grave I am!

However, being 50 isn’t all bad.  I have a job I love.  A column to keep you all updated on my woes and grumbles about my kids.

That said, I’m not a negative person I am a positive person.  On that basis, I’ve decided to embrace being 50.  Mainly because I have no choice but mostly because I’m don’t want to sit and dwell on something I cant change.

I’m no longer bothered about what people think of me, although my ‘how to eat crisps in the workplace without giving a hoot if people can hear you’ is still a work in progress.

I am much more confident and comfortable with my lot, albeit chin hairs, facial lines, and aching bones.  I may not be rich with money, but I’m certainly rich with the love of a wonderful family and friends.  What more could a woman want?

As previously published in my weekly column in Thats Life March 2021

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