Monday, 2 April 2012

Gladiator sandals and grumpiness

When I started this blog, I was 35......I mean, how great was that? 35 is an age where everything just seems to fit. You get taken seriously as a woman because you are no longer in your 20's. You can give your age in vague terms as being in the "mid-30's". You are at a comfortable distance from the next milestone on the road towards female invisibility that is the big 4 0.

Alas, time has marched on and I am now firmly positioned in my 37th year....not so shiny.

I find myself making mental plans for the best tactic to avoid the dreaded 40th birthday "celebrations" that those dear to me will feel duty bound to provide. I watch with horror as my face seems to slip, albeit fractionally, further south with each passing month. I listen with sympathy for those around me as I launch into yet another rant about things that I just cannot understand (gladiator heels and a cocktail dress? Really?!) and I sense that the not so subtle shift that we all make towards becoming our own mother has begun.

So to channel this new view on life and all of the opinions that come with it, I have decided to re-engage with my blog.....there might be spot of redesign and even a new name to reflect its new "mid to late" 30's, cynical status.

Watch this space......and any words of encouragement or simply an explanation of why big black shoes go with a fabulous silver mini-dress (or it seems, every dress on the high street)would also be welcome.

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