Entering my late thirties, and how I feel about that.

A love letter to myself, and to you too.

In just nine day’s time, I turn 37. THIRTY SEVEN….

As I sit here at the breakfast bar of the apartment my Husband and I share in Dubai, it dawns on me that I’m now entering the latter stage of the decade of my thirties and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’d like to say that ageing doesn’t bother me, but come on, that would be an outright lie….

So, what is it about entering my late thirties (and edging closer to the dreaded (?) forties…) that is making me cringe inside? It’s not like I look like I’m in my late thirties – the usual answer to how old I look is usually around the late 20s mark, which I’m always VERY happy to hear. I’d love to say it’s because I’ve always looked after my skin (again, another lie) – I spent many a night sleeping in my makeup during my twenties, after rolling in absolutely hammered from a night out and physically incapable of even opening a face wipe packet… (ladies, please don’t use facewipes, they’re terrible for your skin).

The most sickening part is that it’s mostly my genetics. I look young for my age – I always have done and my mum also doesn’t look her age either. She rightfully instilled in me a moisturising routine from around the age of 14 so I really do have her to thank for my ‘youthful visage’ but in truth, I think we’re both genetically lucky.

I also have an inkling that the ‘why don’t you have children?’ question hasn’t yet reached a peak, because I’m not yet looking my age. I’m sure if I looked like I was in my late thirties, all the Nosey Parkers would be out in force by now – but I think that may come later… perhaps once I’m in my forties people will start asking us when we’re starting a family. My answer, as always will be ‘we already are a family; a family of two and that’s enough for us’.

So, if I don’t look my age, and I’m at that stage in life where I can say I’m married (tick) and have a mortgage (tick).

[Urgh, I hate that I’ve been brainwashed by society to still consider certain milestones in life to be the measure of a successful adult]

Why am I still feeling like some little creature is gnawing away at me because I’m, shock horror, one year older?

Why do I look in the mirror each morning and cringe at the way gravity has now given me slightly hooded eyes (Dita Von Teese-esque eyeliner being my signature look, now taking 20 times longer to get right than it did in my twenties) and crepey skin under my eyes that now shows up as soon as I powder my concealer?

I think it’s because aging really does creep up on us. The changes to my face are slow and steady and I bet, only noticeable to me – being so short sighted I LITERALLY touch my nose to the mirror to see my eyeliner.
The thing is, no one warns you that you will notice yourself ageing. No one really says how much it affects you when you can no longer wear the makeup you’ve worn for 15 years straight. It’s the little things like the crepey skin and the lower hanging eyebrows that remind you that your body isn’t as young as it once was – and that society has all along, insinuated that women ‘lose their looks’ whereas men become ‘silver foxes’ (that’s possibly a topic for another blog).

I know it’s all superficial, but to me, it matters and it matters to MOST women out there too – I’d bet my hat on it. So, whether you’re in your twenties or thirties, I’d seriously recommend looking after your skin.

My Top Tips:

Wear SPF (a minimum of factor 50) every day, regardless of the weather (yes, you tan through the clouds!!!) and even if you’re staying indoors – I swear, sitting by the same window for 5 years has definitely aged one side of my face more than the other!
Never sleep in your makeup.
STAY OUT OF THE SUN – fake tan if you have to, they are so much better now than ever before, but nothing speeds up the ageing process faster than sun damage – and yes, a tan = damage.
Keep hydrated both inside and out – drink plenty of fluids and use the correct skincare for your skin type.

You can’t stop ageing dead in its tracks – and botox and fillers generally (and in my own opinion, of course) never really make any one look younger, they just make them look different – but you can come to terms with ageing and even learn to trust the process.

I’m in no hurry to embrace my age, I’m still fighting the white hair battle with box dyes, but come on, being in my late thirties is fucking cool; I’m married, I have my own house, I’m currently living abroad and travelling the world.
Who fucking cares that my eyeliner is crooked and my makeup creases under my eyes?!

I mean, I do… but from here on in, I shall start caring LESS.

And you should too x