Last year I turned 50. Sometime around your 50th year is really the last time you can do something rash and justifiably attribute it to a mid life crisis. I haven’t done anything mad, yet.
A facelift is something I can only relate to in terms of Hollywood, not real people. And Botox? I like making faces, they illustrate my conversations, an immovable face would be no fun, for me.
Then I wondered about about having a tattoo, probably less like this
and more like this
A Piercing – or two, or three? Ears, nose, eyebrow – nipple? I could go on but I’ll stop in case you haven’t had your breakfast.
My next thought was to sign up for a marathon – I have walked one, but running? I don’t think so. I know lots of people who have signed up for marathons, epic cycle rides, tough mudders and triathlons, and I take my hat off to them. Those 80 year olds that run don’t just jump up and do it, they’ve been pounding the streets for years. Or maybe it just feels like it.
Nutribullets abound, everyone is juicing kale, pilate -ing, attending mindfulness classes (one friend told me of how she was asked to study a raisin – for longer than I could without laughing). Then there’s the tennis coach, the personal trainer, a life coach, or any number of detox/yoga/spa retreats. They are all on hand to help you extend your life or at least make it feel longer – for a fee. Harry Enfield captures the zeitgeist perfectly here;
What do you think about a mid-life crisis? Is it first world, self indulgent twaddle, or maybe you will be doing one or more of the above? Please over share! S