I have come to the startling conclusion that there is a stranger living in my house!

For some time, my suspicions have been piqued; there were signs but denial held me captive from seeing the chilling truth.

Let me start at the beginning.

Shortly after my birthday in June, I started hearing an ominous clickety-click following me down the passage.

While kick-starting my morning routine, I made the most horrifying discovery – lean in a little closer, I don’t want to utter these dreadful words too loud – there on my pillow lay a lone grey hair.. eek!

Days and weeks passed without further incident, however, as the August winds started rustling through the leaves, I witnessed the most heinous sight; the kind that will make children shudder.

There in the mirror stood a figure more terrifying than a soul lost in purgatory.

Its eyes swam in the depths of blackest seas, its mouth drooped at the corners and deep furrows spread across its forehead.

The creature looking at me was me!

Ah, middle-age, you crafty vixen! It seems you have hunted me down to devour my illusions of eternal youth.

To say that the sobering reality that I am no longer young and definitely no longer look it, was mortifying.

Suddenly sleeping on the wrong side of my pillow (yes, such a thing exists) results in a neck injury comparable to whiplash, and going to bed five minutes past bedtime feels like you did a marathon club crawl, which is served with a complimentary headache and bloodshot eyes.

People say age is just a number, but I was ready to ditch my make-up rather opting for door-to-door grocery deliveries in order to stock up on environmentally friendly and reusable paper bags.

Sporadic glances in the mirror yielded the same result, time and time again.

Those highlights are greys, honey; and the crows’ feet?

You guessed it, your new loyal companions.

Just before I set out to add a girdle and pastel coloured cable stitch cardigan to my wardrobe, I found myself in the company of Amor Vittone.

Dressed in a hip denim jacket and heels that would make your ankles weep, the songstress poked fun at her altering appearance, saying the best way to combat the onset of age lines is to plop cucumber slices on your eyes and G&T.

With bated breath, I mustered the courage to again lurch in front of my mirror to carefully examine the monster I have become.

Staring in its unrelenting eyes, I noticed the lines that framed my eyes only appeared when coerced with a smile.

The lines around my lips, which cause lipstick to run like rivers, disappear when I laugh.

Careful observation further revealed that the flaws in my appearance drastically improved with my mood.

The conclusion?

Smile lines show that I have experienced a multitude of moments that brought me joy.

Crows’ feet are testament that life has given me more reasons to laugh than cry.

A slight increase in the waistline line is proof that I have been privileged to share meals with loved ones, and creaky knees say that I have danced to the rhythm of my own drum.

Growing older can be a tremendous shock to even the most unsuspecting adult, but it is privilege denied to many.

Embrace the lines, celebrate the surprise silver streaks and let the tempo of your joints set the tone as you twirl into the next chapter of your life.

Heeding Amor Vittone’s sage advice, I am stocking up on cucumbers, pouring a refreshing beverage and raising a glass to memories made and adventures to come – with cucumbers on my eyes and in my gin. Cheers!

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