Trouble is, my body seems to be telling me something different. I do a slightly faster or longer run than normal and I get shin splints. I move a pile of logs and put my back out. I choose booze, biscuits and late nights and I get spots a teenager would cringe at and black eyes a panda would kill for.
What’s a girl to do – it’s either grab the gin and head for the oven; do a Gwyneth and go all juice, gym and jimjams by 9; or ignore it all and go hell for leather, life’s short so who cares.
I say there’s another way.
No longer can we rely on ‘use and abuse’ (so 20s). The ‘I’m just too exhausted by kids/work/life’ doesn’t cut it (so 30s). We need a new mantra for our 40s: Suck it up, take the dull on the chin. Care to live. Insert your own version as you wish.
Whereas in my 20s I scoffed at the dentist preaching to me about flossing habits, now I both floss and visit the hygienist religiously – better that than massive dental bills or falsies gnashing in a bedside glass by 50. I don’t want old lady dribble issues, so those pelvic floors will just have to fit into my daily life. I do my best to resist the siren call of the daily post bedtime glass of wine and chocolate (yeah, that one might need some more work), and I’ve finally signed up to a weekly pilates class – by all accounts the best (if boring) way to strengthen my body in ways that help as I get older. I take make-up off every night, I’m finally paying more attention to sitting properly at my desk, I exercise regularly, etc, etc.
Yes, our bodies get old. I say, deal with it. We weren’t designed to live so long and evolution will take a damn long time to catch up. Accept it, take the boring self-care routines on the chin and get on with enjoying the precarious and precious life we are lucky to have.
That said, I’m keeping the gin and oven close at hand. Much as she glows, the Gwyneth route is far too dull, and ignoring it all just makes my head hurt. So if my resolve fails, you know where to find me…