Loyal readers, you may have noticed that despite time passing I don’t seem to have aged one little bit.
Sorry about that. It must be galling. But it’s true. In the 16 years or more that I’ve been writing for your Daily Mirror, not one extra wrinkle has made itself known to my face in that image at the top of the page.
But actually, in real life too, and on a good day, I’m told, I can pass for a decade younger. A biological miracle perhaps? Certainly a true blessing. Or maybe I’m fooling myself?
Well, no, as it happens, because I have clearly joined the new club, the one everyone wants to be a member of.
It’s the “50 is the new 20 Club”, reflecting the fact that more women who’ve reached the half-century mark are looking younger and feeling it too.
Just like Cindy Crawford, 53, Liz Hurley, 54, and Julianne Moore, 58, I am fit, healthy and mostly happy. I am a size 6, about three dress sizes down on what I was as a teenager.
Is 50 the new 20, then, as some are claiming? TWENTY? That’s pushing it a bit. But I certainly have more confidence, sometimes, and definitely more body confidence now than I did as a teenager.
And I look good in a bikini, something I wouldn’t dare to be seen in during my teenage, puppy fat years. I still have teenagers
at home with all the chaos, heartache, high blood pressure and joy that brings.
I’m proud to say they’re not even embarrassed to accompany me to Stamford Bridge to watch Chelsea, although they don’t acknowledge my presence much until we score and the lovely blokes that sit behind us start hugging me.
Talking of which… my husband. The saint that’s been by my side for 20 years, despite telling him I didn’t believe in marriage, is still around and our relationship is the best it’s been.
We’re off for a lovely night away this weekend. Something we could never do when we were younger and looking after sick parents as well as bringing up the boys.
Fifty is the new 20?
Hmmm… 35 maybe? But it’s certainly more fun!
