age and guile beat youth, innocence, and a bad haircut
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
I'm 39 today (or, as Jack would have it, 'nearly dead'). It's not so bad: like motherhood, it isn't nearly as scary as it sounds from the outside. In fact only this morning in the shower I was mentally crafting a sage but pithy little piece about how being in fine physical, mental, and emotional shape beats being merely young. And pointing out some of the reasons why, for instance, I'm glad that I've been able to leave motherhood until my late thirties. However it turns out (as usual!) that Lisa and the Grauniad have beaten me to it. (Say it, sister! Testify!)
So here instead is a picture me and my lovely daughter, whom I had when I was a couple of months shy of 37. Elderly primigravida, my arse!
(I never intended to marry and reproduce, you know. I was going to be a spinster academic. I had the blue stockings and everything.)
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