Ah, feck, I wrote an insightful, pithy post re middle agedness during the coffee break of the conference I went to today and it's Not Here - stupid iPhone nought to do with my ineptitude of course.
Which reminds me of another course I went to recently all about Women's Health where 3 male speakers presenting ('tis true, there are not many female consultant gynaecologists were I am, plenty of female gynaecologists, but not in the v senior positions) and v good they were too. A summary of the historical treatment for uterine prolapse going back to the Egyptians 3.000BC via the Greeks and Romans to today was v interesting, but turned my stomach. Really, truly only a man could consider cauterising a prolapsed uterus with a red hot poker - or hanging the afflicted woman upside down, shaking her until the prolapse went back inside her, then tying her legs together for 3 days. Thankfull, the speaker was rather appalled by all these practices himself....
Anyway, I was just saying how I like being middle-aged. I wouldn't mind ataying middle-aged rather than getting older and older and ancient alhtough I do quite fancy being a Wise Old Crone
.
I have life- and job experience, I don't care about other people's opinion about my opinion quite as much anymore and I feel I have 'licence' to not care about my appearance as much - I never did much, but now I seem to be 'allowed' to just be kinda clean, non-smelly, boringly dressed and I find I
more easily because life doesn't stress me quite as much. Mainly because I have totally internalised 'This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass..." Thank you, MN, for that mantra.
Mine's a cider again, please.
And mint marshmallows are just wrong
. No, let me rephrase that: marshmallows are totally wrong