So, I’m 18 today...yeah, second time round.
Thirty six??!! How did that happen? In my head, I’ve never aged beyond about 25 and I sometimes have to stop and think how old I really am... I know what you’re thinking and no, that’s not the early onset of senile dementia.
As a painfully shy child, I often daydreamed about how mature and sophisticated I would be by the time I reached my mid 30s. I always imagined myself with immaculate hair and make-up, wearing power suits in pastel shades with big shoulder pads (you must realise that these futuristic visions were heavily influenced by the fashions sported on TV soaps of the Dallas and Dynasty era), confidently being Very Busy And Important in my Very Busy And Important job.
Ummm....most days, you’ll find me in my home office, barefaced and attired in my baggy old jeans, fleece and slippers...naturally still being Very Busy and Important, writing about... er.... bums and oozing wounds... and other tantalising topics.
In the UK, cars over three years’ old have to pass an annual Ministry of Transport test (known as the MOT) that checks the vehicle’s safety, roadworthiness and exhaust emissions. Given that one car year is the equivalent of twelve human years (you know, like seven cat years to one human...nah, I just made that crap up!) I figured it’s time for me to take a body MOT.
So, how am I doing as I commence the downhill slide to the big 4-0? What sort of shape am I in? Not too shabby I think/hope...I still have my own, naturally brunette hair (one or two silvers bravely put in an appearance every few months but they soon find the sharp end of the tweezers), all the usual teeth (plus a few extras...yeah, freaky hyperdontia thing going on in my mouth!), all limbs in reasonable working order, and I still have my tonsils and my appendix too (we don’t need them but nice to have, all the same!).
I very nearly lost a toe aged nine in a bizarre yet predictable accident involving a sharp piece of metal, and me running past in my bare feet....blood and gore, toe hanging by a thread... but thankfully our GP lived down the road and stitched it back on promptly, albeit ever so slightly crookedly. And despite all my drunken attempts to destroy my liver in my first couple of student years, that organ is still present and (hopefully) functioning well, given my now very infrequent intake of alcohol.
I have lots of laughter lines around my (still unbespectacled) eyes...but hey, at least I’ve laughed a lot and possibly been laughed with/at. Won’t be booking the botox jabs just yet (Amanda Holden and Danii Minogue have done wonders putting me off those with their immotile looks). A bit of extra padding in the seat cushions...but as we learnt last week (on
HERE), that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Let’s draw a veil over the emissions levels (if no one hears you parp or belch, it doesn’t count).
Overall verdict: I just pass inspection and am deemed fit to go out in public for another 12 years. You have been warned....
[Next MOT scheduled for: 20 January 2022]
