Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Where Cath looks her age in the eye

I have never been good with the concept of ageing. I love presents and parties one might have, but deep down, I really do not relish the whole ageing process. For some time now I have been avoiding my advancing years by plucking out my grey hairs when they dare appear. I like plucking them out. It means that when new ones grow in, they stand out - all the easier for me to repluck. It was around the time of my divorce that I really began to notice some grey hairs, and the past 9 years since then haven't made them go away.

To make things worse, I rather like younger men.

For those who don't know - Subtle is younger than me - by more than a little bit. I have dated a few younger men, and they have been (in my experience) far superior to men my own age. But dating younger men is fraught with issues when you don't actually want to look any older than your beau. I have been plagued with some anxiety over actually looking significantly older than Subtle. More than one person has assured me that we look similarly aged. In fact, he has a lot more grey hair than me. This means of course that he can never pick on me when he spies a new crop of grey on my head. Nevertheless, I have started using some anti-ageing creams, and recommended Subtle start some heavy suntanning and smoking to "mature" him.

I think I am joking about that last bit.

But this last week I have had to face reality that I am in fact getting old. I found that when I was reading in bed at night (my excuse is that I am tired....), I have had to start pushing the book a bit further away from me to find focus. For years I laughed at my mother as she held things at am arm's length to see small writing. But now, it seems it has started to happen to me. And I don't find it so funny anymore!

So after much, shall we say, encouragement*, from Subtle, I went to see an optometrist. And all went well until he said, "So, you'll only have to wear them for reading."

I said, "WHAT?"

It appeared I needed glasses.

So now I was faced with two dilemmas. Firstly, I am officially on the downhill slope of age. And, secondly, and more worryingly, I have to now be teased by Subtle since it seemed he was right.... I did need glasses. And I don't quite know what bothers me more.

*encouragement in this instance = harassment, combined with some smirking about the possibility of age-related spectacles....


Katagal Kapers said...

I read a book called Going Gray:what i learned about beauty, sex, work, motherhood, authenticity and everything else that really matters by Anne Kreamer. As a consequence I stopped dyeing my hair back in February and am probably slightly less than a 1/3 gray now. Feels scary but liberating and whole lot less stressful and far cheaper. Not hugely fussed on my natural colour yet to find an attractive descriptive word for it.
Yes getting old ain't all it's cracked up to be but it's inevitable so embrace and make it work for you!

Perseus said...

Well I'm 40 next year and refuse to have anything to do with the ageing process. Denial is my chosen approach. I hate getting old so I simply refuse to do so. I dress young, act young, and although this has lead to alienation and ridicule I don't care. Ageing is for the meek. Rage, rage against the etc.