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Getting older

I don’t mind getting older; it happens to us all. Some of us even get wiser with the added years. I’m not sure if I have. I don’t like age-ism any more than any other ism. I don’t lie about my age. But what bugs me about getting older is the cost.

This month alone it’s been £100 for a new pair of specs, £200 for a crown to replace a broken tooth, £7 for hair dye, etc, etc. I don’t mind being over 40 but I don’t want to be sightless, toothless and greyish. (Grey would be fine, but it’s the half and half which doesn’t suit me.) I feel like an old banger and wonder why my husband (a toy-boy seven years younger) doesn’t trade me in for a younger model with cheaper running costs.

It’s not just the expense of getting older that’s disconcerting. I don’t know if any of you have problems with finding the right words for things. I’ve recently suggested that we should heat something up in the photocopier (I meant microwave) and said “fridge” when I meant… oh, I’ve forgotten whatever it was now.

That’s another thing. You go upstairs for something and when you get there, you haven’t a clue what it was you wanted. It’s only by going back down again that you have any chance of eventually remembering. Not only that; if you’re an expat, Britain seems to metamorphosise every time you’re away.

This can range from unimportant stuff like how they now print your cheques using the till in supermarkets to really important things like being able to buy appropriate underwear. After a few years away, I was stunned to discover that the simple process of buying a bra from M&S was no longer an option.

If you are anything less than a 34C you can buy an enhancer, which is basically what we used to call a padded bra. This is probably better than stuffing tissues down your front as I did in my early teens only to notice a third breast around my navel during a rowdy dance to the latest Slade hit.

If you’re bigger than 34C the only option seems to be a so-called “minimiser”. I wouldn’t mind minimising my bust if they could minimise my stomach to match but that didn’t seem to be on offer. Anyway, I bought the minimiser believing that’s probably how to do it these days. What a horrible thing that was. Basically, its function appeared to be to hide most of the breasts under the armpits. I know that many of our readers are blokes but even you can imagine how that was not at all pleasant.

It’s not even the sort of thing you can easily ask people about either. I mean, if you start enquiring about someone’s underwear, they seem to get a bit suspicious of you. Anyway, if anyone has any advice, please write in. Chances are though, by the time I get any answers I’ll have forgotten the question.

How do you feel about getting older? Why not tell us about it?

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