Age is just a number......Yeah. Right.

As I approach this birthday of mine, I'm thinking (obsessing?) more and more about age. I keep being told by friends that it's just a number, it doesn't matter, it makes no difference etc etc..... Yeah. Right.

Why should it matter to me? I only feel around 28 and I'm told I look younger than my advancing years (by people older and younger than me – that's gotta be good right?) Even this week I was told by a few colleagues that they thought I was 31! Yay me! 31! I can live with that... Added to the fact that I usually poll around 32 when I'm out and about, I'm concluding that I do in fact look a fair amount younger than I actually am and that I haven't been fed a pack of lies by random people. Hoorah for the good genes inherited from my young-looking mum and all the time and effort spent applying eye cream!

However, I'm going to the Year 13 Leaver's Dinner in a couple of weeks. We have the option to go for free if we're prepared to be on duty, stay alcohol-free and deal with whatever incidents may or may not happen. I think it's pretty telling that my initial reaction to that is 'God no! Why the hell would I want to be in a room with loads of 18 year old girls, all dressed to the nines without a little alcohol on board to take the edge off?'

It's not like I want to be 18 or 19 again. Hell no! That'd be awful. I am actually a grown up, self-sufficient, independent woman who still has good boobs (so I'm told – see previous blog), has good hair (well, I think so) and more importantly, has an idea about what she wants from life and the people in it. I'd hate to be 19 again, thinking I knew everything, but in reality knowing nothing. So why do I feel the need to reach for the bottle of wine at the thought of having to enter a room full of these (in the main, absolutely lovely) young folk?

Probably because they're half my age. Like I said, I'm getting a little sensitive about the upcoming anniversary of my birth.... Last year, I attended the same event, had a surprisingly really good time and on the whole, managed to hold my own pretty well I think. It's that bloody birthday making me feel all insecure, I'm sure of it.

It's so annoying, this getting older thing. I was discussing this with oldest (not elderly) friend TJ. It seems totally unfair that during those late-teen, early twenty years, you may have the body but the confidence and general life know-how isn't there. And now I'm in my (very) late 30s, I have all the bloody life know-how you could want (oh boy do I?!) and the self-awareness that goes along with that. It's just that the body's not holding it's own as well as it once was.... That is just simply unfair! A true example of 'youth being wasted on the young' if ever I saw one! This is also why I probably shouldn't date younger men. My competition for these sorts would be women in their 20s. Now, I can't kid myself that I can compete with the 20-something woman in any way, shape or form. To be perfectly honest, I don't even want to. And surely I shouldn't have to? Surely I must have enough going for myself to be able to be competition enough in whatever category I decide to enter? (Note to self: this is why all future men I get involved with should have an age that begins with at least a 3...)

In the meantime, I'll wear my new dress (yes M it is quite low-cut...!) and new heels to the Leavers Dinner. I'll have a few glasses (bottles?) of vino and I'll enjoy the fact that M will be there to give me some much needed male attention and make me laugh.  The students will be great and we'll all have a jolly nice time.

And two weeks after that, I'll be........40. Ouch.

Should I be offended....?

Earlier this week, my really rather cheeky friend Ph commented that I was 'looking pretty darn boobilicious'. He then went on to tell me that he was in fact, addicted to boobs (well, he is male) and very much appreciated an attractive pair. Now this got me thinking (once I'd stopped laughing at the inappropriate messages he sent me post-conversation...!). Should I be offended by this?

I was wearing a lowish cut, pretty tight top but I hadn't put it on because of the 'boobilicious' effect (honest) it really was the first thing out of the wardrobe that morning. However, was I upset about the result of my wearing it? Absolutely not! Maybe I should've been a bit put out by him talking to me like that? After all, I was at work, we're professional people, but honestly, I thought it was funny and really rather flattering. I mean, a girl's gotta take a compliment where she can huh?

Without wanting to sound big-headed (because I'm not I assure you. As I've said before, many body issues....) I do get the 'nice rack' type comments on a fairly regular basis and most notably in the workplace. Financial service industry office workers, they're all about the tits (in the public service sector it's pretty similar so it seems...). I spent many a happy Friday afternoon (post lunch-time drinks you understand) trying to hide my glee when my boobs were given notable mention by the men on my team. I protested of course, ''Shut up J – you're an offensive, chauvinistic pig”. You have to don't you? It's what everyone expects. 

However, many years ago, one particularly cheeky (and rather hot) manager wrote a poem for me as I left the department for pastures new. I can't remember most of it, but the ending went something like: '21, there she sits – nice blonde hair and great big......eyes! Embarrassed? Slightly. Secretly chuffed that the young, handsome boss thought I had good tits and had just told the rest of my department? Hell yes! In all honesty, I'm always pretty chuffed when the ladies get a mention. I've spent years wearing the good underwear – I'm just pleased to continue to see the results and to collect the compliments. (Is compliment too strong a word? Have I totally lost my mind along with the vaguely feminist principles I once pretended to have?)

I feel similarly about being called a MILF. Not in the traditional way, by my son's friends (he's only eight – that would be very wrong) but by random younger men. Yes, it's a bit crass but come on; you show me one mother who would rather be a mother-you-wouldn't-like-to-f*ck and I'll show you a liar.

There's one young man in particular who has been known to refer to me as a MILF and several of my girlfriends think it's awful. How dare he? What a prick! What an offensive thing to say! Really?? To be described as someone a hot, younger man like to have sex with? How can that be bad? Ever? I tried to be offended, but nah....it was just mildly amusing and to be honest, really rather flattering.

So there you are. I'm sometimes called a MILF and sometimes complimented on having a good rack and on the whole, I'm happy with both. Not very in line with feminist principles, nor is it very P.C. But seriously, who cares? As I said, show me a mother who doesn't want to be a MILF or a woman who doesn't want to have good tits, and I'll show you a liar.

Maybe I should take the time to read more Germaine Greer.....?