None of us are getting younger.
Apart from those of us who’re exempt… obviously naming no names here (ahem).
I thought I’d list six words. Six signs of the ageing process.
It goes without saying that hair would be mentioned. It is me doing the mentioning after all, and I haven’t had a hair post in such a long while. It was whilst I was otherwise engaged that I found the inspiration for this post. You see, I’d visited the bathroom at work, and as I was washing my hands, I glanced, nonchalantly, at my reflection in the coloured mirror that makes everyone look as though they’ve been smeared in spray tan. Ignoring the fluorescent orange gargoyle in the reflection, one thing stood out at me. Literally. It actually waved at me. All shiny it was too. A bright white eyebrow, four miles long, pointing forwards, totally out of line with all of the other neatly shaped eyebrow hairs. I tried to flatten it back into shape, but it wouldn’t have it. It wanted to go where it wanted to go. I attempted plucking the little sucker, but it wouldn’t budge. Eventually, with it grasped firmly between forefinger and thumb, and left foot propped up against the sink unit for leverage, it twanged free, with a reverberating twang that echoed all around the bathroom and probably throughout the Kingdom that is United.
Yes, as we get older, hairs start to grow in the most unusual of places. Today the bathroom… tomorrow? Where?
Ah. Yes. Well, some of us start to spread out a little as we reduce in height. Others remain beanpole thin, but the rest of us turn ever so slightly podgy. We waddle as we walk, have double-chin obstructions as we try to look down, and need a shoe horn just to put on a pair of socks. Running involves walking at the same speed and just moving our arms in a running motion. And we have to come up with novel ways to hide the overhang from our waists just so that others don’t notice that its there. The multiple chins kind of highlights the fact that an overhang may be there, but we have it so well hidden nobody notices.
The gateway to the soul. Depending on the colour, clear and crisp, dark and broody, or emerald-like and enchanting… looking in. Looking out it’s all misty, foggy and blurred with close-up things having to be moved further away to bring them into focus, and distant things needing to be brought closer for the same thing. The light needs to be right to read black text on a white page, so sometimes a small amount of contortionism needs to take place to get the page in that right light. Not an easy task if one is on the portly side (see word 2 above), and very frustrating if the right light goes out of sight.
Some of us manage to wear the same things throughout our lives. Others experiment and try different styles, but there’s a fine line between looking good, looking as though one is dressing younger or looking old-fashioned. And there always comes a point when our favourite shirt no longer seems suitable. Maybe its because all of the buttons have twanged off (due to word 2 above), or unsightly hairs protrude through the threads (due to word 1 above), or the colour seems to have lost its lustre (possibly due to word 3 above), or we just think it’s not right and we need to get something else. One word springs to mind here: black. Black always looks good. And the right black can be right flattering too!
An oldie but a goodie. This one phrase shows you that you’ve aged when someone says that about your favourite piece of music which sounds as good to you now as it did when you first heard it forty-five years ago. Another sign of the ageing process is singing along to elevator music. Especially when it isn’t playing. And with music, the final sign of the ageing process is when a new piece of music just sounds like noise. I mean to say. Noise?
Yeah, dude… joints!
Not the joints you may be thinking of, however. This word relates to the parts of the body that click… fingers, knees, elbows, neck, spine, toes, jaw, ears, nose, shoulders and brain. Sometimes even walking two steps may leave you hearing the sound of a pod of dolphins chattering around you. When you realise that you are actually in your living room, and there aren’t any dolphins anywhere near, your brain clicks onto the fact that the clicking is actually you. Thinking about it, though, one could become a musical instrument, and provide percussion whilst clicking along (known in the younger days as dancing) to a favourite piece of music (word 5 above). One could push the boat out and wear a groovy little number (word 4 above) as long as it was flowing (word 2) and in bright colours (word 3), and let one’s hair down (or out – word 1). A word of warning, though, if one were to do this. It will be felt for the next three weeks, and the clicking may be considerably louder for a while.
Obviously, this is a general observation.
Not everyone ages in the same way.
I, for example, stopped at twenty-four. (Apart from the odd protruding hair)
Do you have six ageing words? Perhaps you’d like to share below…
I’ve gone slightly over six words…