So, a colleague of mine was chatting today about how upset she was to be facing her 25th birthday this week as it meant she would now have to ’round up to 30′ and that felt really old to her. She was met with a rather steely response from both me and another workmate about how some of us were only just still rounding DOWN to 30, and that she ought to jolly well think herself lucky (I would like to point out at this point, that the fact that the lovely almost 25 year old is totally gorgeous and the object of every man’s desire had absolutely not one single smidge of a bearing on our reaction at all, and that our disgust was purely in relation to numerical envy. Fact.)

However, it has made me think. Is age really just a number as I have always claimed, or does the fact that next year I’ll be rounding up to the next decade bother me at all?

How do you feel?

I wonder if it is more to do with what we perceive those ages are going to mean in terms of our lives rather than how we will actually feel. Worryingly, for my lovely colleague, I think the fact that she was staring her knackered, end-of-term haggered thirtysomething bosses meant that rounding up to 30 meant she would look and be like us!!!

For me, rounding up to 40 is exciting. I can’t wait. I’m hoping then that I look as fabulous as some of my 40 something friends. And I’m hoping it will finally mean I feel grown up.

But at the same time, I don’t want to lose sight of the fact that I will actually only be 35. And not 40. Or any other age. So, actually, what’s the point in wishing anything away, or up, or down, or back, or forwards. Let’s just enjoy the moment instead (fine lines around the eyes and all!).

(And actually, in case Mister Mush is reading this, I should just thank my lucky stars I can remember how old I am and when my birthday is, unlike some, eh! Tee hee x)

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