Keys?

I didn't want my blog to become a moan fest about "age" when I hit forty - but then I realised that pretty much everything you think about at this age is well, age related.


I have been dieting on and off since the new year and I am really struggling.  I predominantly blame Jurgen for this as if he wasn't so praising of my slightly overweight self then I would try a lot harder.


But its just not shifting and despite my apparent lack of effort I kind of want to blame it on my age.  Like my body has stamped its foot and said "well you are forty now"    Its like my body has decided for me that this is how its going to be.   It doesn't care whether it fits into that swimming costume or whether my jeans are cutting me in half because they are so tight.  That's life - you're forty.  And I want to agree with it.  My body is my friend.  And if it is telling me that it is happy looking the way it does - then who am I to argue?   And I do treat my body well.  I do take it with me to two exercise classes a week.  How nice?


I will probably continue to wrestle with my conscience about my weight forever, but I agree,  my body should start telling me what it wants.    Food.  Food and beer?   I am happy to start listening. 


More and more often I walk into a room, stand there, look around and walk out again with no clue as to why I was there.  This drives me insane but I do it.  A lot.   I used to pride myself on my brilliance with remembering faces, names and dates.  But now Jurgen can ask me to get him something from the next room, I absorb the info for all of a second and then just stare blankly around?  That can only be age, can't it?


I put my car keys down EVERY SODDING DAY and forget where I put them.  Recently I looked for ages, literally on the verge of tears because I couldn't understand where I had put them.  I did eventually find them.  In my hoodie front pocket.  That I was wearing at the exact time that I was trying to find them.  In the same pocket that I had put them in not half an hour before.  The very writing of this sentence is making my head hurt.   But I still do it nearly every day.  And I tell myself - put your keys on the key rack the minute you walk through the door.  And I don't.  Because I forget.


Its funny because I can relay my bank card details, all of them without looking at them.  My bank account details too.  I pay online without using my card because its all committed to memory.  But I go swimming twice a week every week and I forget to take a towel too often than is sensible.  I stand bereft in the changing room dripping wet, wondering why?  How?  Luckily I go with my mum and she takes a second much, much smaller towel.  But I haven't been adverse to using my coat before. 


I go to work and forget my works badge - despite not being able to access most of the building without it.  Why is that?  You think you could train yourself with the basics. 


I'm the mum that sends her children to school in fancy dress on the wrong day.  Or walks all the children up to the school, only to turn around at the school gates because its inset day.  Although this has been happening for quite a while so maybe I have historically been crap.  But it isn't going to get any better is it?


I have to make a conscious effort to remember to pick up the boys when they have after school clubs because its outside of my routine.  I have to get Skye to text me a reminder if I have promised to pick her up from an evening out.  ( But the up side - I forget every week almost, that my cleaner is coming and the surprise every time I come home from work on a Friday is still,  bloody great.  )


I drive a 2 seater convertible.  I often get young drivers, usually of the male variety trying to race me .  I am a fast driver at the best of times and have an irrational hatred of anyone who overtakes me.  So I often try and leave them standing.  But now I have a fear of being a middle aged, mid life crisis type.  Because you expect to see good looking people in soft tops.  And, by my very own admission, I am hugely disappointed when I see a Mr "hit every branch on the way down" behind the wheel of an awesome car.  Well, imagine when these young racers see me?     And with the top down, and the wind blowing,  and me being beaten to death as gravity takes hold of my double chin and whips it into my face.  This is what turning forty does to you!


One saving grace of my age and sanity is my dwindling commitment to social media. 


I recently deactivated Twitter after making a huge social media faux pas.  I was a huge Twitter fan.  Nearly 5,000 Tweets.  I loved the anonymity of it.  But with social networking stalking being what it is, me and Jurgen's ex started competitively tweeting.  And we are all at it.  I think its what social media was invented for.  And the very idea that you don't do it, ever, is absurd.  She was as guilty as me of watching what the other was doing.  And it became a bit tedious.


Clearing out my blocked list a week ago (which was no longer necessary as my tweets are protected) I accidentally followed his ex.  It was a mistake.  I wasn't looking at her profile, or stalking her.  She was in my blocked list and I was sick of looking at her bloody miserable face, so thought I would delete her.  But I followed instead and if anyone has my mobile, this isn't hard to do.  I've done it to my sister in law too.


All of a sudden I thought - she will get the notification.  She will dine out on it for weeks about how I am the sad, freaky stalker. And how, clearly, I am jealous of her life.  And no amount of explanation from me would help.  But you can't blame her because we were both "following" each others accounts - despite her protest that she's a victim.   And anyway an explanation from the enemy generally falls on deaf ears.  But who am I to shatter her illusion that she's a somebody in my eyes. 


So, I deactivated my account and haven't been back on since. 


And I have locked down my Facebook page so that you have to be a master "mission impossibler" to access that.  Or just be my friend. 


And how life changing has that been?    I don't care about it and I really thought I would. I don't care that my life is no longer on show.  And its a confidence thing.  I don't need to be on show for my life to matter.   Its liberating to be able to chat to your family and friends without having to document every little thing you were doing on social media.  To be constantly looking at your phone and scrolling through loads of others people's inane shit.  It's excellent and I actually don't miss it.  And I think that I can bypass my standard resentment of the husbands ex .  Because she continuously believesin her victim status.  And all power to her.  But the constant scrutiny of each others lives needs to stop.   I have allowed this to be a part of my life for too long..


Its amazing the things that you evaluate as you get older


I am too young to be forgetting things on the basis that by the time I am 45 I wont remember my own name.


But I am far too old to be squabbling on a competitive level with anyone. Let alone my husbands dull ex.


So I may be a fat, forgetful, middle aged, lager drinking, cake eating woman on the verge of a mid life crisis.   But I am adult enough to walk away.  With my held high.


And maybe that's an age thing.....