Half-time. Half-time. Mid-way. Middle. In halves. Mid. Life. Crisis.
I am 27 and, hello, according to the Telegraph, I reckon I am going through a midlife crisis. “But Ruth!” You cry “Not you, it’s not possible.” And to that, I say, oh reaaalllly? Let us refer, shall we, to an article-cum-list written by them brilliant babes and bros at the Telegraph, on July 3rd. Yes, let’s do just that. Some highlights which one can expect when going through a crisis, include but are not limited to (with my examples in brackety brackets):
-Longingly look at old pictures of yourself (Facebook is a fecker for this. LOOK AT ME WHEN I WAS 18! Wasn’t I a beaut?)
-Switch from Radio 2 to indie stations like 6 Music (*Looks at you*)
-Flirt embarrassingly with people 20 years your Junior- (this last bit is not so appropriate for me because anyone 20 years my junior will in fact be seven years old. Lets not go there. I am very much looking forward to being an overbearing cougar type in about 25 years time, however.)
-Obsessively compare your appearance with others the same age (did you know that Lady Gaga is younger than me? AND Iggy Azalea. And most of the cast of Made In Chelsea. ‘Kin hell!)
-Look up your medical symptoms on the internet (I have gout, or possibly, need a hair cut. Who knows?)
-Find that you are very easily distracted (STORY TIME. Was having a very serious talk with My Mate on the old dog and bone, and naturally I felt the need to point out how stripey and orange and badly faked tanned my legs were at the time, too. It helped, I think)
-Take up triathlons or another extreme sport (I WILL start doing half-marathons. Maybe. Next year. Or the next. DEFINITELY in the next five to ten. Maybe)
ANYHOW. Because I do love a good list, oh yeah, I could list all night, baby…here are some of my own musings to add. You can thank me later Mr and Ms Telegraphs.
Let’s totally bullet point! Or number point:
1) WEARING SHORT SHORTS. Always, and whatever the weather. Friends and family have tried to hint that it may be time to fold away the denim kecks, and to them I say: NEVER. ZERO TOLERANCE.
2) In a similar vein, wearing neon coloured bras under light coloured tops ‘Oh you can see my bra? Oh SILLY ME, oh what a rookie and teenage mistake. What am I like, eh? Do my tits look good, though?’
3) Wearing ‘statement’ and ‘zany’ jewellery. Ugly tat, really. Me and a friend were talking about this, he’s a bloke see, and pointed out that men should wear leather type jewellery. You know the shit I’m talking about. Bit like if Ian McShane had gone lentil weavery.
4) Using words like ‘zany’ and not ironically.
5) Asking my sister if I can go to Ibeefar with her. She, wisely, told me to piss off. Good call. Big fish, little fish, cardboard box.
Yeah, anyway, moving swiftly on. I do a lot of these. I can’t POSSIBLY be having a midlife crisis, surely surely SURELY? Maybe I am having some other kind of crisis; it could be argued that walking away from your marriage would spark some kind of crisis, perhaps (It’s okay, I’m fine. No really, I. Am. FINE.). If that telegraph 40 point list is anything to go by, I’ve been in the midst of such a crisis since I was 19. Now there’s a depressing thought. I think the whole crux of it, is that it’s all about behaviour, what you do and how you change. Seriously, though. Is any of this actually a crisis? Maybe a bit cringey, certainly but you know what? Fuck it. It’s fine. Do your thing (thang? Is that on the same scale as saying zany?)