A poem about getting older….

This post is a little different from usual! I started this “poem” in my head whilst driving down the motorway yesterday and I was so engrossed that I missed my turning (I probably shouldn’t admit to that.)

Some of it is autobiographical but most is in anticipation of what is yet to come. I think that my point is that whatever is happening on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. The only real measures that I take against ageing are trying to eat well, to get plenty of exercise and sleep, to drink lots of water and not shut my mind to new possibilities. Other than that I don’t do much but it is a debate that I do have with myself from time to time. Anyway, hopefully it make you smile (a little). Have a super weekend!

My hands aren’t my own

I don’t recognise my face

That “hair” lying across my forehead

Is actually a wrinkle I can’t erase

My thighs are going squashy

My chins are doubling

And soon my husband will be requesting

Some “conscious uncoupling”

Those stretch marks that seem from nowhere, to have appeared

cannot solely be attributed to those I have reared.

My hair is grey in every imaginable way

I think about not dying it. But I’m not ready for that…maybe one day.

My knees are wrinkly,

My bum’s heading south

“Are you sad?” The children ask

No, it’s just my droopy mouth.

Would botox make a difference

or laser or peels?

Or should I grow old gracefully?

I know how it feels…

To look around and wonder what to do

When others who are older, look younger than you

Because they’ve gone down that route that so far you’ve

But they have persisted

In refusing to accept

That it’s over yet.

Why am I looking in the fridge? And why have I come up the

Why have I put the milk in the microwave and why do I stare

When I catch a glimpse in the mirror

of someone who sort of looks like me

But she has wrinkles and saggy eyes. Oh no! SERIOUSLY?

Your body stops producing the things that keep you young,

Less collagen, oestrogen and failing pelvic floors mean you have
to run

To the loo when before you could take as long as you liked

And don’t get me started about the middle of the night

“You were snoring” says my husband when we make in the

But really it was him, which is why I’m still yawning

And he woke me at three

when he went for a wee

And for ever thereafter that was my nightly fate

All as a result of his dodgy prostate

My husband is talking about paying tax when I’m dead

I wasn’t expecting that whilst lying in bed

Because you see, in my head

I’m no older than when I had our son (Fred)

But it’s not all bad I have (a bit) more time than before

To go for a wax,

Or to sort out our tax (!)

To do a tough mudder

With some other crazy bugger

So what keeps you young?

It’s about having fun.

Go stand in a queue

if there’s something your children want to do;

And don’t say “ouch”

when you get up from the couch

It’s all about your spirit and all about your soul

It’s all about laughing at the prospect of getting old

For whilst outside things may sag and things may change

Inside our spirits remain the same

You can choose to be old or you can choose to be young

Age is only a number although for some

It’s a hindrance to excitement, exploration and fun

Move as much as you can (even if it hurts)

Dig out your sparkles and your mini skirts

Laugh with your mates

Go out on dates

(Unless you’re married when that’s probably not a good



  1. Anonymous
    January 31, 2017 / 2:23 pm

    I love this, some of it did unfortunately sound very familiar but I so agree that age is just a number and it is all about your attitude to life.

  2. Michelle
    January 31, 2017 / 7:09 pm

    All of this sounds familiar but I often keep myself in check by asking, 'what's the alternative?' I don't mean fillers and Botox either because that's all fine and dandy for a maximum of ten years and then people just end up looking their age again, only with the 'I've had work done' look – and there's no mistaking that for youth. I see that as all rather desperate and I'd like to look younger but I'm not desperate to look younger – if you see what I mean. What I'm trying to say is, the alternative to not ever growing old is the unthinkable. We've all lost loved ones too early. So yep, I'll take my greying hair and creases and the eye bags that I just can't seem to cover any more and I'll keep up the dog walking and the gentle yoga. I'll be good and eat my 5 a day (or is it more now?!?) and I'll just try not to be too downhearted about beginning to feel slightly invisible on some days and just keep reminding myself that to be alive is the most wonderful thing!!

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.