Ageing Doesn't Mean Getting Old!

So last time I posted, I claimed, foolishly, that my body was ‘fit for purpose’. With this in mind, we embarked on a number of garden projects, which involved enthusiastic digging on my part. So, I’ve crocked my knee. I’m not sure if it’s housemaid’s knee, clergyman’s knee or just old person’s knee, but its curtailed not only my gardening but any other physical activity for the time being. I’m reduced to trying to figure out garden planning software so I know what to tell my other half to do!

Lots of digging = knackered knee!

I’m sure it will soon sort itself out if I’m sensible (not my forte!) but it’s reminded me of the problems my Mum had with her knees, and made me feel, well, old… About three years ago my son bought me a book for Mother’s Day. He fully admits that he bought it because he liked the cover, but what it turned out to be was a book about ageing. Thanks, son! I think it's supposed to be heartening and reassuring but, although I tried to read it, I couldn’t get on with it. It was sitting on my bedside table so I thought that, being officially old, I would have another go. Maybe it’s because it’s translated from French, or because its tackling a topic that I would rather ignore, but I’ve given up again — it was so depressing. It’s called ‘The Warmth of the Heart Prevents the Body from Rusting’ by Marie de Hennezel, and while I admire the sentiment, I simply found it so difficult to think about. Maybe I was reading it wrong! If you would like to give it a try, I may know of a copy you can borrow!

Available on loan!

I prefer to think about people I know or admire that are ageing well. In a previous post I wrote about my patchwork family (here). As part of that family I am lucky enough to have two amazing aunties. 

Bridesmaids to my Mum and Dad, August 5th 1939

One, Lily, is my  late Dad’s youngest sister and the other, Maisie, is my late Mum’s youngest sister. Both grew up as part of a large family,  and both have now had to mourn all their siblings. But they are incredible role models for anyone who fears or thinks that decrepitude is an inevitable part of growing old.

You're never too old for a paddle

Auntie Maisie is 86. She is a widow, who still lives in her own house, continues to drive and, get this, teaches yoga classes every week! She is as sparky and funny as she has ever been, and looks so much younger than her years. Although I don’t see her as often as I should, my sister takes her youngest grand-daughter, also called Maisie, to visit her every week. Little Maisie adores Big Maisie - they play silly games together, go to the beach, or simply enjoy each others’ company. Big Maisie has far more patience with Little Maisie than many other people! I love that she provides a continuing connection to my Mum and is so vibrant and wonderful.

Never too old too party, either!

Auntie Lily has just turned 90. Also a widow, she has endured losing both her son and her grandson to hideous illnesses, but she is amazing in her resilience. She has a sharp wit and real sense of style - I’ve never seen her without her hair ‘set’! She also lives in her own home, although she has promised her daughter she won’t climb on a chair to clean the curtain rails any more, and does admit to having a gardener - no knackered knees for her! At her recent birthday party, she was regaling us with tales of her childhood - telling us about how kind my Dad was to her when she was little, and sharing ancient family scandals! Although she doesn’t drive, she catches the bus into town each week to do her shopping - she had an argument with someone recently, because she wouldn’t give up her seat for an old lady!! Yes, she looks that good!

So rather than reading about how to accept ageing by slowing down and planning for a care home, I’ll look to my wonderful aunties - my  last connection to my parents’ generation - and living proof that ageing doesn't mean getting old!

Fit for Purpose!

For as long as I can remember I have thought of myself as fat. As an adult I have yo-yo’d between less fat and more fat, but always fat.

Last week I was looking through my Mum’s old photos and found loads of me as a teenager, at a variety of family weddings. While my first thoughts were, ‘Whatever possessed me to wear THAT!’, the other thing that struck me was I was thin. Really thin. How could this be? I have always been fat.

Cool outfit, right?

As with many other things in life, its about self-perception. I believed myself to be fat, therefore I was fat. One incident from my childhood sticks in my mind. I had been to a choir event, where we had to wear school uniform including ankle socks. As I walked back into class, a boy (who I could name and shame, but won’t) said to his mate, ‘Look at her legs - they’re like cart-horses!’ I was mortified, and didn’t wear a skirt from choice for many, many years. Who knows how many other times my peers made similar comments. These, alongside photos of the beautiful people in my teen mags, mean that I went through my teens feeling as if my body was letting me down, not good enough and this continued into adulthood.

Not fat - really not fat!

Last week I also had a pre-diabetic check. The good news was my blood test came back as normal and my blood pressure was fine, so I have obviously wrested my body back from the brink of diabetes, which is where it was last April. Despite this, I have also put on weight. Bugger. 

The thing is I love food. For me it is a joyous part of my life, one that I share with all my family. My daughter and I share recipes, ideas and photos of food all the time. My son is a brilliant cook, who makes amazing pies, cookies and brownies. My husband is also an amazing cook and we share the cooking duties pretty equally now I have retired. For me food is more than something to stop hunger, it is about nurturing, nourishing and showing that I care. I love feeding people. I also love eating…

I just love food!

Those of you that don’t know me personally are probably imagining an enormous blob with a keyboard propped on their quivering belly. I can assure you this is not the case. I’m not thin, but I have finally come to realise that I am not fat either. Yes, I have ‘muffin tops’ that I would prefer weren’t there, and I have a section of my wardrobe that I don't visit very often, but in the main I am happier with my body now than I have ever been. I’ve been slimmer but I’ve also been bigger. I have size 12, size 14 and size 16 clothes that all fit me - what’s that about?! I recently bought my first ever pair of Levis, and because they just have a random waist size I have no idea what UK size that equates to - I just know that they fit, they are comfy and so, so cool!

I just love them...

Finally, after 61 years, I have accepted my body for what it is. I will probably lose a bit of weight with the spring and summer as I consume more salads than dumplings, but that could well be balanced out with increased Pimms consumption! None of my family and friends judge me for my looks, but I have long judged myself - harshly on many occasions - as a result of throwaway comments in my past and unrealistic images of how I felt I was supposed to look. We need to be so careful how we talk to our children and teenagers. We may think we are being flippant and funny, but I know, from bitter experience, the impact comments like ‘chubby chops’ can have. Children need to know that people come in all shapes and sizes - the valuable bit is what's inside.

My chops may be chubby, but don't keep telling me!

Whatever shape it is, my body seems to be fit for purpose. It allows me to play tennis, garden and chase around after my grandchildren. I think I manage to look stylish too, and hopefully will continue to do so into my dotage!

Stylish, and fit for purpose!