Five Reasons Why Ageing Sucks

 

Teeth

Dental hygiene plays an important part in gum health. Brushing ‘n’ flossing keeps Gingivitis at bay but for some people receding gums can be a matter of genetics, so if several members of your family have receded gums, the odds are that you will too. I know, it’s shit.

I have nice teeth but there’s more tooth on show than there used to be, hence, I am starting to resemble Shergar. The good news is that I still have all my own teeth at 47, which is fang-bloody-tastic considering my mother had a full set of false teeth by the time she was 50. WIN!

Skin

As we age, our skin loses elasticity – it’s called Elastosis.

It’s where all those years of lying on the lawn nuking yourself come back to haunt you with skin that looks like crepe paper. You know, CREPE PAPER? The crinkly stuff we used to make flowers with at school?

Another perk (not) of ageing is that skin becomes translucent which is why we start to resemble AA road maps by the time we are in our 50s. At this stage, PLEASE GOD, DON’T WEAR MINI SKIRTS!

That said, what the hell, it’s your life so wear what you like. Just don’t whinge when somebody turns your saggy backside into a GIF and gets it trending on social media.

Eyesight

Eyesight naturally deteriorates with age. Over time the lens hardens and you struggle to focus. You’re permanently squinting and find yourself holding everything at arm’s length, including your kids. You can’t thread needles anymore and you have to ask your family to read the small print on food packaging or you run the risk of giving them the shits.

You also have your Kindle font on size ENORMOUS.

So, you book an appointment at your local opticians for an eye-test and end up with a pair of specs (two in my case) that will cost you the same price as a week in Barbados, depending on what extras they con you into. However, the good thing about blurry eyesight is the instant soft focus you get without your specs on. YOU DON’T LOOK AS CRAP IN THE MIRROR!

Gimme a high-five!

Feet

Feet, like everything else, change with age. The changes in our feet are largely due to good old gravity and the pounding that they take over years.

The result is more hoof, than foot.

Corns, bunions, deformities, flat and calloused feet are par for the course when it comes to feet unless you REALLY look after them but most people will succumb to at least one of these things after decades of stuffing their foot neglect.

It’s safe to say that my own feet have hit their fugly stage. Boo. 😦

However, it’s my own fault because my idea of a pedicure is to cock my feet over the loo twice a month to cut my nails. No filing them or shaving the balls of my feet with a pumice stone/Black and Decker belt sander, depending on what state the skin is in.

When it comes to shoes, the mid-life woman is more into Pavers than six-inch stilettos and men naturally gravitate towards trainers, slip-ons and sandals. The problem is when they wear sandals with SOCKS to hide their ingrowing toe-nails. To such an offender, my advice is this:

Mate, you look a div. No human over the age of 5 should wear socks with sandals. Lose the socks OR the sandals. You’re welcome.

Hairy toes?

Don’t start me.

Farting

Two thirds of menopausal women report an increase in farting. Fact.

Being post-menopausal, I can vouch for this. I’m definitely more flatulent than before my ovaries pensioned themselves off. Some experts say it’s due to lack of oestrogen, while others say it’s due to an ageing digestive system. It’s not just women though, as middle-aged men are more prone to ‘bottom-blasting’ too.

We literally become old farts.

My theory is that when we reach middle age, most of us will have had some kind of health scare requiring a radical diet change, usually to include more fruit and veg. Combine an increase of fiber with a digestive system that’s buggered from years of trying to digest junk food and you basically start farting yourself into a coma. Am I wrong?

Growing old is a privilege, so we should be grateful that we’ve got this far. However, we can still have a laugh at ourselves, eh? Laughing is what keeps us young inside..

“…inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.” Terry Pratchett – Moving Pictures

Creative Commons Images Via Pixabay

 

 

Dedicated Non-Follower of Fashion

I don’t do fashion, me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments over the years where I’ve tried to be fashionable in order to fit in, but it was hard work because all I ever really wanted to wear were my jeans and tee shirts. In my most creative phase I wore black lace skirts, gloves, vest tops, studded belts/cuffs and high-heeled boots, which I couldn’t walk in. What can I say? I was into Siousxie Sioux and her glorious gothness. I wanted to look like her, only with Madonna’s hairdo.

Over the years I must have spent hundreds of pounds on clothes (albeit via charity shops) only for them to sit unloved in the nether regions of my wardrobe. I’ve bought so many clothes on a whim during my monthly hormonal malfunctions. I CRINGE thinking back to some of the disasters I’ve bought, such as floor length green and pink striped WOOLEN skirts, which is fine if you want to look like a. sodding. caterpillar.

I think that women should stay the HELL away from clothes shops when they are on their periods (or going through the menopause) because they buy shit clothes that languish in their wardrobes with the tags on until they get a charity bag through the door.

“Women are more likely to have accidents in the few days leading up to their period and during their period.”

This includes accidental purchases of shit clothes that don’t fit and which look HIDEOUS. I vote they install sensors in shops that pick up on hormone imbalances, so as soon as the hormonally bewildered wander in, alarms go off and said women are escorted off the premises and propelled in the direction of the nearest Thorntons. Me? I don’t have that problem anymore because I’m post-menopausal which means that my hormones no longer fluctuate. I am psychotic 24/7. However, I can wear white jeans now WHENEVER I PLEASE. HA!

The thing is that I was, and still am, a tomboy.

In 1982 I lived in skin-tight jeans and AC/DC t-shirts, so maybe you can imagine my distress when my mother informed me that I was going to be a bridesmaid at my brother’s wedding…

To most 11-year-old girls, being a bridesmaid is a dream come true. Me? I sat down on my bed and wept because the thought of being center of attention terrified me, not to mention the indignity of having to wear a dress. In hindsight, I wish I had spoken up because at least then they wouldn’t have my sulky chops ruining their wedding album and video. In my defence, I was on the verge of starting my periods, therefore, MEGA CRANKY, and the photographer kept insisting on telling me to ‘smile ducky’ which just made me want to beat him to death with his Nikon, or whatever it was..

To make matters worse, my ‘evening do’ outfit was a pair of CANARY YELLOW pedal pushers with an equally hideous blouse. I had/have legs like chicken drumsticks, so my mother saw fit to buy me a pair of PEDAL PUSHERS. Also, she wanted her money’s worth out of the wedding sandals, so I had to wear those again, only with my SCHOOL socks.

Way to go, Ma. Could the outfit have been any bolder shade of yellow? I think not. There is a good reason why people don’t nick yellow cars. IT’S BECAUSE THEY ARE ABOUT AS INCONSPICUOUS AS LORD VOLDEMORT STROLLING AROUND TESCO DOING HIS WEEKLY SHOP!

Actually, I might bring this one up in my next therapy session?

Bro, if you are reading this, I’m sorry I spoiled your day with my sulky face. I was SO out of my comfort zone with all those people (inc scary old vicars and photographers) and then having to wear a girlie dress when I was about as girlie as a dog turd. I just wasn’t bridesmaid material. Bridesmaids should LOVE every second of being a bridesmaid but I was one big sweaty, miserable mess. I am honored that you asked me, truly, and I love you for it. However, I also know that Mum would have killed you if you didn’t. Love, Sis.

It’s taken me forty odd years but I finally understand that I am a woman of simple tastes. My wardrobe consists of jeans, tunic tops and umpteen tee shirts. Everything is 100% cotton. I own one pair of boots, four pairs of Converse (bit of an obsession) and a pair of sandals. No skirts. No dresses.

I’ve finally sussed that wearing certain materials only aggravates my sensory issues which makes me more of a miserable cow than I already am. Life is hard enough without handing myself more ammo, no?

I would quite like to die wearing a pair of Converse, but knowing my luck, I’ll shuffle off my mortal coil wearing my tea-stained dressing gown and pyjama bottoms with the holey crotch. Such is life, eh?

What I do know is that my days of wearing uncomfortable shoes and clothes are over. I wasn’t designed to totter in heels and I will never again inflict my bony ankles on the general public. Whoever designed boot cut and flared jeans has my eternal gratitude. From the bottom of my bell-bottomed heart, thank you.

“Anyway, there is one thing I have learned and that is not to dress uncomfortably, in styles which hurt: winklepicker shoes that cripple your feet and tight pants that squash your balls. Indian clothes are better.” ~ George Harrison

Creative Commons via Pixabay

 

 

 

 

Our Selfish Society

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Have we become a selfish society?

It’s a YES from me!

*drags up a soapbox*

Parking Prats

Wing-mirrors are more precious than lives, apparently. Drivers park on the pavement to the point of causing an obstruction in an attempt to prevent their mirrors being knocked or God forbid, broken, because we all know that people can replaced, right?

Living opposite a school we see this kind of douchebaggery every day. Parents blocking pavements and parking on the zig-zag lines despite school notices politely asking them not to and the NO STOPPING sign which forbids them BY LAW to park there. About twice a year the police will turn up and occasionally we get traffic wardens. Talk about rats leaving a sinking ship? Shifty looking parents breaking all kinds of records sprinting to their illegally parked cars!

As residents we accept disruption. It’s par for the course living by a school innit? What we don’t accept is parents parking selfishly then giving us a mouthful of abuse when we politely point out they’re illegally parked.

“Do you own the f**king street?” was one response to OH and I’ve had a straight “f**k off!” by one charming parent who almost had all four wheels on the pavement causing people  to walk out into the road. Anybody would think we lived on the set of Shameless instead of a quaint old mill town. *sniffs*

There’s no need to block pavements. You’re driving a Clio dear, not a Sherman tank!

Unbelievably, a parent actually parked in my next door neighbours driveway. Not blocking it, she actually parked IN the driveway! I’d seen her park up and presumed she had permission to do so but then my neighbour turned up (who was usually at work) and judging by state of my neighbours face (and finger gestures) it was obvious that the parent had taken it upon herself to park there.

As Nan Tate would say, “WOT A FUCKIN’ LIBERTY!”

Just this morning there was a car with ALL FOUR WHEELS parked on the pavement rendering it impossible for pedestrians to get past. It’s a pavement for PEDESTRIANS yet the driver obviously considered it their personal parking space.

Then there are those who park in disabled or parent and child bays when they have no child or disability..

This is a genuine question I found on the internet..

“Hi, I parked at disable bay around 9pm at night and I was issued a ticket. Is that possible to issue parking ticket after working hours?”

The answer should be as follows..

Dear Mr/Mrs/Miss Selfish Twat,

Yes, I’m afraid you WILL be issued a parking ticket after working hours because people don’t stop being disabled after 5pm.

Kind regards

Car Parks R Us

Mobile Morons

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People full of their own importance who shout into their phones in supermarket cafes while they tap away at their laptops. The woman in the far aisle buying cat food can hear EVERY word as can the elderly bloke with both his hearing aids turned off.

Dear Annoying Shouty Person,

I’m not interested in whose ‘brains you want to pick’ or if you’re thinking outside the box, inside the box or in someone else’s box. I just want to drink my Cappuccino decaf in relative peace. GO SIT IN YOUR CAR DAMN YOU!

They DON’T CARE about anybody but themselves.

Litter Louts

The people who throw their McDonald’s litter out of car windows and flick their fag ends onto the pavement. They think the floor is a bin. These people care nothing for the environment (or world in general) and if there is a hell, I hope theirs is to flounder about in Satan’s maggoty- filled wheelie bin for ETERNITY!!!!

These people are littering the planet and killing wildlife and do they care? Nope.

When I die, I will hunt them down and empty the contents of their bins (especially the smelly food waste one) over them while they sleep. I’ll be the ‘Litterer Finder General’ patrolling the planet and ridding it of littering douche-bags. Consider it extended services to humanity..

These are but a few examples of how inconsiderate society has become but it wasn’t that long ago when people were law abiding, courteous and respectful. Those who died defending our country must surely be spinning in their graves at the state that society is in. They experienced horrors the likes of which the majority of us could never comprehend and for what? To give people the freedom to be selfish arseholes, that’s what!

Louts in General

One evening last year, I watched from my front window as a teenager spat on the floor TWENTY times in the space of a minute. NOT an exaggeration. He was draped against the school railings trying to impress two younger kids with his gobbing prowess. The last one was aimed at my car so I almost put the window through alerting him to my displeasure. The lad saw that I had the phone to my ear and probably thought I was calling the police so the the little shit legged it up the street as fast as his Nike’s could carry him. As it was, I was telling OH (who was round the sports and social club) to get his arse back round home, PRONTO, to deal with a yob who’d just violated my Yaris..

Somehow we’ve managed to spawn a generation who think they are owed everything for nothing. They hang around outside Co-ops being obnoxious and disrespectful. Some don’t know how to spell respect, let alone be act it. To think that lads, not much older than them, were prepared to die for their freedom?

It sickens me.

Of course there are exceptions. There are polite people. There are respectful people but they are becoming the exception rather than the rule. However, it would be wrong to lay the blame exclusively on today’s youth as a lot of older people wouldn’t know respect if it tapped them on the shoulder and announced itself. So maybe the problem is with society in general?

Do we, as a society, actually give a shit anymore?

I’ve lost count at the amount of parents who ignorantly sail past me as I stand with the door open for them at school and guess what..their children do EXACTLY the same!

Am I invisible?

It’s what it feels like sometimes..

Manners cost nothing. Respect? It’s free!

Is saying ‘Thank you’ really too much to ask?

My upbringing won’t allow me to lower myself to today’s standards or lack of. Also, the ghost of Mum would clip me one round the ear-hole if I so much as tried it. I just wish that people would consider others and stop being so selfish and rude.

Our standards. What’s happened to em? ~ Dot Cotton – Eastenders

Creative Commons Images Via Pixabay and Wikimedia Commons