A few grey hairs...

Jennifer Aniston, in my opinion one of the most beautiful women on the planet, turns forty this month. She said in an interview that she recently 'shed a few tears' when she found a long grey hair. (She does have long hair, so it makes sense).


In the context of the rest of the interview, it seems that she's actually quite 'together' about getting older, and was half poking fun at herself for her reaction. But I have friends who are paranoid about the whole ageing process. I find it really sad. My Dad's wise saying about growing old was that it was 'better than the alternative' - although when I passed this gem onto my boss as he dreaded turning 50, his response was, "Thanks a bloody lot!"


My family have never really believed in growing old. Sure, we age - but I remember very early on in life, my mother telling me that "you'll never be any older than 18 in your head." She was right.


So far, so good. I'm 48 (often taken for younger) and regularly burst out laughing in front of the mirror at the absurdity of being nearly 50. Perhaps, as my age-phobic friend predicts, I shall suddenly panic as I hit the big Five-Oh, but I don't think so. Forty was great! So far, each year has been better than the last, and though there is presumably some tipping point, where the aches and pains outweight the advantages of no longer giving a shit, I'm enjoying the ride. I'm planning to be a beautiful old lady with lots of happy wrinkles - it would be wonderful to find a guy to help me make them, but if that doesn't happen, I'm quite prepared to take responsibility for my own happiness and optimise my love of life.


I have more grey hairs now - in fact, they are a beautiful, shiny silver, which makes me put off all thoughts of colouring. Last time I went to the hairdresser's she asked me what shade I used, which made me feel a little odd. I don't know whether I shall want to dye my hair. I love the colour it is, but I know some damn sexy silver-haired women... I shall have to see how I feel when the greys outnumber the rest.

Age. The great divider. Youth allegedly equals sexy, competent, desirable, independent, fulfilled... and the rest.

What a load of rubbish!! I am more confident as I approach fifty than I have been for the whole of my life. I still have lots of anxieties, but I have learnt not to let them rule my life. I have enough experience to know that I can get through - well, almost anything. I've survived divorce, illness, the death of a parent, the near-death of a sibling, the chronic illness of one of my children, seeing another dearly-loved child move abroad, losing almost all my friends after my marriage broke down, finding God and losing him again, enforced celibacy and paying the mortgage! If you'd asked me at twenty-five how I thought I would cope with any of those things, I would have confidently replied that I wouldn't cope at all.

So don't tell ME that ageing is a bad thing! The longer I live, the more there is to love about life. I intend to drink it to the last drop.

I'm already wearing purple...