General Chat

They say you are only as old a the woman you feel :-D

Snag is the Mrs is three years older than me ;-) ;-)

Both my mother and her mother have always stated that ''old age never comes alone'' - so very true.

I'm nearly as old as my tongue.

My hair and eyebrows were the same colour, a sort of dirty-blonde.

That meant that the eyebrows sort of faded in oblivion, so I had to use brown eyebrow pencil to make them obvious


But when my hair became silver ........................


my eyebrows didn't change colour ......... so they now stand out without any help :-D

Edinburgh???

My home Town.

Edinburgh.

So men's beard and moustache dye is good for wiry, hard to colour hairs is it? I wonder where else it could be used.

I don't have hot flushes, I have power surges :-D

And when did my body find it necessary to bless me with chin hair?...Now where are those tweezers :-(

Chris

Never mind the colour, my eyebrows grow to an inch long now and they go with my beard.

Nobody ever told me I would evolve into a werewolf after the menopause. I already had the personality for it though!

The maths may not be quite on the button but in round figures we seem to spend the first half of our lives trying to be older – and the second half trying to pretend we’re not as old as we are.

Think back to your first memories as a child, when an adult asked you what age you were. “Three and a quarter,” might be the answer – and the quarter was critical because it lifted you above the level of the mere three years old. Five and a half, six and three-quarters….all important quarterly dates on the road to another year.

Then you became a teenager and you lied with great extravagance – particularly when it came to getting into over-18 movies or getting served in pubs.

You can only look back now with mortification on the little tyke who had shaded in the bum fluff on their upper lip with a pencil – or, in our case, the brown phosphorous from the head of a match – to give the impression of greater growth in an area as devoid of it as the Sahara Desert.

So you wanted to be 18 from the time you were 14 – and then when you hit 18, you wanted to be 21. But now you’ve arrived; once you look your age and can get into clubs without flashing your tattered passport, the world is a beautiful place for a while.

And then – just as you’re getting used to your perfect age profile – the big three-o comes bounding over the horizon.

But no matter….life is still good and you make jokes about thirty being the new twenty-one and you celebrate a little too forcefully which only serves to indicate that the tide is beginning to turn.

Still, you don’t have much time to deliberate on lying about your years because the chances are you have kids and a mortgage to pay for – crèche collects, football and/or ballet practise to pencil into the equation.

In other words, for these hectic years you’re too busy to worry about what age you are. And yet the first roots are beginning to plant themselves – ironically often starting with the roots… the roots of your hair and a small drop of brown or black to keep the grey away.

You also don’t talk as much about age anymore; birthdays aren’t marked and your age is vaguely passed off as ‘in my thirties’. Some celebrate being 40, if they’re surrounded by childhood friends who all know what age they are anyway – because they’re the same age – and it’s all a bit of crack but heading over the halfway line now and into the golden years.

The ladies tend to keep these things low key – and I can still remember a friend of mine who surprised his shy and retiring wife on her fortieth by hiring their all-time favourite singer and booking a top restaurant for them plus 100 friends.

I can still see the look on her face when the surprise was sprung – and it was less thanks than pure thunder.

(*Copied from The Connacht Tribune.)

Getting old has to be endured, but its certainly better than the alternative.

:-D :-D :-D

As my OH say's it's a crime to get old ;-) :-D :-D :-D. Me personally... I feel like a sixteen year old but B****r it I can't catch one :-D :-D :-D :-D

I saw this phrase on a card about 25 years ago (on a 40th birthday card!), and have been using it a lot lately.....

I finally got my head together, now my body is falling apart.

How true. :-(

Old age is just something we all grow into at a maximum speed of 60mins per hour. Anti-ageing cream does not act as a brake.

Old age has given me a thick skin & I'm a bit deaf plus my mind wanders. My memory goes back to at least half past eight last night & I don't ever remember being absent-minded. My brain is on holiday but the rest of my body is still here.

but at least you're not gethering dust I guess Bobtanian!

I have to admit that many of those applied to me when I was a lot less old ...

I did lose some of my wisdom on Saturday though, and not before time ... it's so tiresome when other people, including your **** mother, tell you how lovely those whitish blondish streaks framing your face are, and you know very well that they just look like the grey hair they are and then everybody agrees you look 10 years younger when they're gone ...

The part I hate? Grey eyebrows !! because while my hair is kind of dark dirty blonde, my eyebrows are (were!) naturally darkish brown

but here's a trick if anybody can use it ... years ago I bought some eyebrow dye and it lasted for ages, just a little at a time and not nearly as often as they needed it ... but then the cat knocked one of the little bottles over and I hadn't screwed the lid on tight ... and I found I could not buy eyebrow dye anywhere now

so a cosmetics person at the chemist had a stroke of genius - use men's beard and mustache dye. It's for hard-to-colour wiry hair just like eyebrows ... and it works like a dream

so now I have my own dirty blonde hair and brown brows back, at least for a couple of weeks ...


My mum is still very blonde in her 80s and keeps her hair casual. She came with the tall dude and me last week when we bought a new television (finally into the modern age of flat screens)

we were joking around with the sales man and I was saying how we had both left our home town nearby, but I was 16 when I did and she was 76. He looked at me and said Don't be insulting!

so what I wondered was, if it was insulting to call her 76, did that make me, her daughter, still on the small side of 50 maybe (instead of the large side of 60) ... or did he maybe look at my, er, lovely whitish blondish streaks and figure I was her sister ?!

the only problem with gathering birthdays is,,,,,,,,,,,
you collect the ailments that go with them.......

Me to a T!

I am so fed up with this getting older malarkey! Wish I could turn back the clock!

Lizx

Like it.

Brilliant!! :-D :-D :-D