A phenomena of realisation is currently sweeping through my friends and I. I seem to of had the same conversation about half a dozen times with various friends recently.
The realisation is, when we go out, we are no longer the youngest, trendiest out. Now I am sure this must have been true for at least the last 7 years, though it only seems of late that I feel particularly aware of it. I look at them... These thoroughbreds... I marvel at their bang on trend hair, make-up and clothes. I gasp in awe at their endurance in 9 inch heels. I swear when I am stumbling over the bags under eyes home at 11:00pm, painfully aware of the impending 6:00am wake-up, they only look more polished.
High waisted skirts, platforms, false eyelashes and back-combed hair. Whilst I'm not old enough to see these trends as alien, they don't feel like mine. I could buy this stuff, some of it I could even "pull off" but it's not me.
Now it's nothing to do with what these trends are. These girls aren't superwomen. I was them, a while ago. It would be easy to imagine this realisation is about me getting old, frumpy, letting myself go or needing to get out more. But it is not about that.
So I find we can make this a glass half full thing...
It's reasonably tempting to insert a "I'm a smug mummy who has much more important things to do that be all about my looks" paragraph here. But this is not that either. More so, it's a life time check. A glance at my watch and oh that's what time it is.
I'm happy to be here.