Susie O’Brien: Fifty shades of grey but I’m young at heart

With ageing much goes downhill, but just because we’re older doesn’t mean we’re out.

the only thing worse than turning 50 is not getting the chance to turn 50.

I turned 50 the other week and got a present from the federal government.

It was a free bowel cancer testing kit.

It scared the crap out of me.

Then the government found a new way to mark my birthday by counting 50-year-olds in with those who can safely get the AstraZeneca vaccine without fear of blood clots.

Vaccinations for this age group will proceed within weeks.

Even though I am 50 years and a couple of weeks old, I find myself lumped in with the 80-year-olds.

It doesn’t impress me one little bit.

I’ve been acutely aware of this millstone — oops, I mean milestone — birthday for some months now.

It’s true that I am not as young as I used to be.

I know my kids feel sorry for me for this; I can see the pity in their eyes when they accidentally catch sight of my unclothed body.

Still, at least no one has stood up for me on the train (yet).

I am now at an age where I try not to look in the mirror with my reading glasses on because I don’t need to see what I actually look like.

People keep saying to me: “You don’t look 50”. What’s 50 meant to look like anyway?

I do have one friend who had to back off the Botox because her phone facial recognition stopped recognising her.

My generation is losing track of what the ageing process involves — although some would say there’s nothing wrong with this.

But I do have one friend who had to back off the Botox because her phone facial recognition stopped recognising her.

These days, women start Botox before they need Botox so they look as if they’ve never used Botox. (Are you following me???)

My face, like the rest of me, is all natural. I’ve never been all that hung up on how I look, so I am not mourning the passing of the time when I was smokin’ hot.

I am still hot, it’s just that it comes as flushes these days.

Yep, these days lifts play my favourite songs, I’ve got grey hairs older than the kids serving me at Macca’s and I can’t stand all the tatts and topknots on AFL footballers. I am turning into my mother and it feels like a good thing.

I got slippers from my partner for my birthday (among other things). Even worse, it’s what I asked for.

Not only do I not know any songs in the top 10, but my kids tell me there hasn’t been a top 10 for decades.

I’ve never heard of most of the singers my kids listen to, such as Polo G, Lil Nas X, Silk Sonic and Dua Lipa featuring DaBaby.

As far as I am concerned, Cardi B is a piece of clothing, The Weekend is something to look forward to and DaBaby is what you put in DaPram.

And don’t get me started on someone called Pooh Shiesty feat Lil Durk, given that I came of age in the era of Sony Walkmans.

Like my children, Facebook already thinks I am old. For years it’s been bombarding me with ads for seniors’ nappies, stories about dementia and Russian silver singles dating.

As far as I am concerned, Cardi B is a piece of clothing. Picture: Getty Images

These days, my phone font is the biggest possible, I don’t understand what my kids mean when they call me “totes adorbs” or a “noob” and I look at TV news reporters and wonder if they are old enough to have a real job.

Never mind. I am sure all the young people in my office wonder if it’s safe for me to still be there.

In my mind I’m still in my ’80s heyday.

I remember when the hottest place to get clothes in Adelaide was Miss JM (John Martin’s) and the coolest meeting place was the Malls Balls outside Sportsgirl.

But now I have to face up to the reality of fashion for the over 50s, which seems to emphasise flattery over fashion and comfort over chic.

I’m told this means “covering up arms”, “camouflaging problem areas” and choosing a “higher rise pant to smooth and lengthen”.

How depressing does all that sound? Hell, I am so old that I remember when we called them pants, not a pant.

Before I shuffle off, I am having one last hurrah — a 50th birthday party with a ’70s theme so wild it will take me the next half century to recover. I may be old, but I’m not out. In my mind, the only thing worse than turning 50 is not getting the chance to turn 50.

See what happens when you get old? You get wise as well.

Susie O’Brien is a Herald Sun columnist. Her book, The Secret of Half-arsed Parenting, is out now.

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