The Art of Ageing

Good Day Fellow Time Travellers, Having very much enjoyed writing about my 50th Birthday holidaying Italy in a blog, (google-Mediterranean Midlife Adventure) I decided to continue using this medium as nothing more than a creative outlet for me to pass commentary, shock and on occasion, sheer terror, at what one's body does as it moves into the second half century of living, if one makes it that far. And secondly, this blog is about how I am treated and perceived in this youth loving culture of ours. Not blessed with genetic longevity on either the maternal or paternal sides of the family, I suspect I won't ever be receiving a telegram from Betty, Chuck or Wills whomever were to be holding office in 2061. That of itself is not a concern, but ageing appropriately and gracefully is. By the time I get to the end of my time, I don't want to be surrounded by women and men who have faces as smooth as babies bums whilst their necks and hands look like their favourite crocodile handbag or pair of brogues. If I am destined for some debilitating disease I don't want some secular politician opposing legislation for how I can elect to bring the cessation of my time here to an end. So here I am today in 2012 at 50 years and ten months of age. To date, no Botox, silicon or other paralysing or uplifting substance or chemical has taken up temporary lodgings in my body. That is not to say, that given the chance, I wouldn't have anything and everything, tucked, sucked, lifted and reshaped,it may seem odd but I am far more comfortable with the idea of an invasive surgical procedure than I am with the concept of injecting substances into my body that I have yet to know what the long term effects of those will be. So read along with my musings that will hold no structure rhyme or reason other than the travails and observations of a middle age white woman of ok socio-economic comfort who is a little bit overweight but generally speaking, one who is in good health. Stay well Kelly