I never thought I would get old.

The word ‘old’ is such a subjective term and my definition of old and yours probably varies. Certainly my definition of old has changed as the years have crept forward and my numbers have changed (well the official numbers have changed despite me still trying to own being 38).

I remember very distinctly when I was a teenager telling my parents that I never wanted to reach 40. “Eeeewww! That is soooo old! I never want to be that old!” Their response as they laughed was “OK, we’ll see how you feel about it when you get there.”

And what do you know they were right LOL

Although I did have a bit of a freak out about turning 40, much like I did at 30 and 50, I accepted it and reminded myself I was lucky to be 40 as I become my most confident self. I still looked great, was the thinnest I had been, and felt relatively successful and not a wrinkle in sight.

As I have been exploring this topic of my mid-life identity crisis, I have been pondering why I have always struggled with the age. Why does it bother me so much?

And I think I might have figured it out…I am grieving my lost youth.

I look back at photos and I see this thin carefree girl who could rock a midriff top and skinny pants and look hot. Heads would turn, people would comment about how good I looked, I never got called ma’am (a term I hate  with a passion).

When I was younger, so much younger than today…just like the Beatles sing, I never really thought about aging. I guess you don’t until, well…you start aging.

When I look at the youth of today, I wonder if they look at me and think I am old. I certainly don’t feel it. Like I did of those before me. Youth is something so precious and yet we squander it away without thinking. We think we will always be youthful and cannot imagine anything else.

I remember when I was going out to nightclubs on the weekend thinking that I won’t be like those older people who stop going out. I’ll still be going to clubs in my 40’s and strutting around in my 4-inch heels. I will never be like those ‘old’ women.

And now when I see all the 80’s fashion back in style, and teens baring their midriff displaying taught skin, I mourn my lost youth. I can never have that time back again.

I remember hearing a quote recently which stuck with me “you will never be as young or thin as you are today.”  I am sure in 10 years time when my number has a 6 in front of it, I remember those words and remind myself about how true it is.

I am not sure when I become obsessed with youth, I guess it is something that happens with age. Just take a look at the beauty industry to see how obsessed women are with maintaining a smooth, wrinkle free face. Billions of dollars spent on hope when in fact no one will ever gain their youth back. No cream or serum or so called, miracle cure, will make a difference so why do women bother with it?

Perhaps a healthier way for us to grieve our lost youth is to not just accept it but spend that money wasted on these products on life experiences that will leave us with beautiful memories. I suggest we focus on the things we can control instead of those we have lost control of.

So whilst I will not ever rock a midriff top again, I need to learn how to focus on the positives of being older and remember that the girl I grieve was broke, had a shitty car, was working in a dead end jobs and spending too many hours sleeping after a big night out. (But how easy was it to bounce back from a big night of drinking?)

I’ll explore more on that in another blog.

For now, I will pop open a bottle of Veuve and hold a silent funeral for my youth. And let’s face it, I could not afford to drink Veuve when I was young so there is another positive, I guess.

My practical brain tells me it is a gift to be able to get older as so many of our loved ones don’t get to be. But my head battles my heart in still mourning this loss of youth. I cannot help it.

How about you? Do you grieve your lost youth? Do you wish you were young again or have put your big girl pants on and accepted your age? I hope to get there one day soon. I am working on it one glass of Veuve at a time.