Getting Old

It's official, I'm getting old. This phrase is used a lot as a joke. Talk of 'senior moments' abounds when someone forgets something obvious. But is it a joke? I frequently quip that I'm a grumpy old man in training. My mum calls me her young fogey.

How does this manifest itself? Why have I started noticing it?

Two things combine as an initial indicator. Firstly was in my time as a medic at "party" events. Seeing girls dolled up no longer provokes a feeling of joy at seeing female flesh exposed and instead makes me think that they look cold or contemplate the danger they are potentially putting themselves in (this is a different post so let the comment lie). I have now stated genuinely believing that less is more in times of displaying skin. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing girls naked but there's a time and a place and in the middle of a club is not either.

The second factor is my "primary survey" (to use a first aid term) when meeting a girl. Like almost everybody else, when I meet a new member of the opposite sex, I do tend to size them up for attractiveness. When I was younger, this tended to extend as far as boobs and pulses and not a lot else. Over the months and years that have followed, I have come to appreciate other features such as bum, hair, cheek bones, smile, eyes and many other features. As well as this, the notional attractive age of girls has increased. I've never had a problem going out with girls that are older than me but the answer to the question 'how old is too old?' is getting progressively higher. Most tellingly, as well as surveying for attractive qualities, my primary survey now includes a quick glance at the left hand to check for rings on awkward fingers. This is a bit of a weird one even for me. Of course I have friends that are married or engaged but certainly not an abnormally high number. However somehow this check seems right (possibly because many girls I know who are married/engaged are terribly attractive).

Less flippantly is the fact that I've started taking the world of work far more seriously. There are no  heavy nights the day before a working day and I do try and get reasonable amounts of sleep. Previously these things were jokes or, at the very worst, inconveniences that shouldn't be taken seriously. Now I take pride in a job well done.

My final point has consequences beyond the obvious. A few months ago, I noted I had developed a bit of a paunch. I joke that my trousers and suits have shrunk somewhat but I have unequivocally put on weight. Part of this I'm sure is just my figure maturing a bit to become less of a lanky young boy. Quite a bit of it is fat. There are consequences to this beyond the mrs calling me "Pie". It has genuinely shattered my sense of youthful invincibility. All young people think the world won't touch them. For me, part of this was being able to eat and drink what I want without a second thought. This has apparently ceased to be. As a result I have done things I never thought I would see myself doing like cutting out fizzy drinks and switching from crisps to soup with my sandwiches. So far this has had little effect but I live in hope.

I have called this growing old. Perhaps it is in fact simply growing up. It's not the worst thing that has ever happened to me but it needs to be carefully managed. I could become even more of an insufferable fuddy-duddy than I am at the moment.

JR