Getting Older: Positives and Negatives..... you be the judge

They say getting older is a privilege. They say it’s full of wisdom, self-acceptance, and an appreciation for the little things. What they fail to mention is that it’s also full of mysterious aches, rogue chin hairs, and a deep suspicion that furniture is getting lower.

The Aches and Pains, Nobody Warned Me About

Remember when you could wake up, roll out of bed, and start your day without needing a full-body diagnostic? Yeah, me neither. These days, getting up in the morning requires a moment to assess what body part is unhappy today. Is it the knee? The back? That weird muscle I didn’t even know existed until it started hurting?

And don’t even get me started on the noises. There’s a symphony of cracks and groans every time I move. My knees pop, my shoulders click, and my back creaks like an old wooden ship. I sound like a walking bag of popcorn!

I never would have thought when I was young, could that mean something? I mean, if my body sounded like I had Rice Bubbles in the knees, I wouldn’t have thought, Oooo what is that, and maybe I need more calcium and Vitamin D? I didn’t wake up at 2am and stay awake until about 5:45am, just enough to not have enough time to fall back asleep before needing to be at work. I didn’t think losing a few hairs every time I brushed out a knot could become a bald spot. I didn’t look at marks on my face and consider them to be skin cancer from bad 'tanning' moments in my youth.

I remember when I was young, looking at my body and wanting more out of it—man, I’d take that body and what it could do back then every day of the week.

Gravity is Not My Friend

I swear furniture used to be higher. Couches, beds, even the toilet seat—they all seem to have lowered themselves just to make my life harder. Either that or my knees have formed a secret union and are protesting any movement that requires extra effort.

And while we’re on the topic of gravity, what is it with body parts deciding to shift? Things that used to sit high and proud have now taken a slow, defeated journey south. And no amount of good posture or strategic undergarments can stop the inevitable.

The Betrayal of Hair

Ah, hair. Once my friend, now my enemy. The hair on my head is thinning, but my chin? My chin has decided it wants to grow its own forest. And let’s not forget the one rogue eyebrow hair that grows at superhuman speed and waves at people from across the room.

And why does it feel like my hairline is retreating in shame while my eyebrow, lip and chin hairs are thriving like they’ve won the genetic lottery? I didn’t sign up for this follicle rebellion.

The Trampoline Test

I remember when I was younger, jumping on the trampoline did not come with any thoughts of... knee stability, post-birth strength (you know what I mean, ladies), or the sudden realisation that I might just feel dizzy getting that high. Let alone attempting a somersault.

Now a simple jump makes me question every joint in my body. My knees feel like they might unhinge, my lower back threatens rebellion, and my pelvic floor - well I think it jumped off the trampoline the moment I stepped up the ladder!

And somersaults? Not a chance - I don't want to explain to the doctor at the emergency ward that yes, I know this 46-year-old lady that hasn't trampolined in 35 years thought tonight was the night to show my kids I've still got it.

The Shift in Priorities

Remember when a “big night out” meant staying out until sunrise and dancing like nobody was watching? Now, a “big night out” means staying up past 10pm and regretting it for two days.

I remember going nightclubbing—if they even still call it that.

In winter, I would wear outfits that were barely different from beachwear, paired with heels. An umbrella or a jumper? Absolutely not—both uncool and an unnecessary expense for the cloakroom. I stood in queues for ages, knowing full well it was just to make the club look exclusive, and I accepted that the night wouldn’t even start until 10pm.

Now? Now I realise I’m getting older and sensible because that all seems completely insane. Take an umbrella, wear a jumper, and for the love of all things good, put on comfortable shoes. Also, the night can start at 7pm, preferably with a lovely restaurant, good wine, and a “late night” that wraps up at 11:30pm. Bliss.

The Unexpected Perks

It’s not all bad. With age comes a certain level of not caring. I no longer have time for nonsense, and I have mastered the art of saying "no" without guilt. I can wear what I want, do what I want, eat what I want, and if someone doesn’t like it? That’s their problem.

Also, my appreciation for “sensible” things has skyrocketed. Comfortable shoes? Life-changing. A good quality mattress? Essential. Finding a restaurant that plays music at a reasonable volume? Practically winning the lottery.

The upside is, I know more about what I want in life, who I want around me, and the fact that hey, that’s just me—I'm outta here if I want to go home. Getting older means I get to say, Nupp, not for me, see ya! When I was younger, I would have persevered. Don't get me wrong, I still try things—I just know what I want to do now, not what I should do.

I am also learning to love what I have now, because in another 20 years, I will likely want the body I have today—so best get on board.

The Truth About Getting Older

So, is getting older everything it’s cracked up to be? Not exactly. It’s a mix of aches, hair betrayals, trampoline reality, and unexpected joys. It’s realising that while your body may be slowing down, your ability to laugh at yourself is stronger than ever.

And honestly? If I have to deal with rogue chin hairs and creaky knees in exchange for the wisdom to know what truly matters, I suppose I’ll take the trade. But I will still complain about it—because that’s one of the perks of getting older.