Fat, but not as fat as I was; old, looking down the barrel of my 50th birthday in a few years and looking backwards as much as I look forward. I’m a mother of two youngish children and have been married for 15 years.
I am also a teacher, and a good one; I used to be in a rock band in the 90’s; I had a stillbirth at 42 weeks; a boy shot an arrow in my eye when I was 6; I want to learn the drums so I can play along to Pearl Jam’s ’10’ before I hit 50; I have an inappropriate crush on Norman Reedus; I taught a sixth form class 20 years ago and two pupils committed suicide; I want to tell those stories. I feel they are important.
I hate how age has reduced me so people only see a frizzy-haired mumsy looking woman in an unflattering jacket. I hate how I have become invisible to the world. I can’t remember the last time I exchanged a flirtatious glance with a handsome passer-by.
For the last ten years I have been so caught up in my children I haven’t drawn breath. I feel exhausted and now I’m nearly 50. Time to take stock and time to start doing the things that I’ve always meant to do. I have wanted to set up a blog for years. I have spent my life writing all sorts of things: books, poems, articles and stories. Not once have I managed to get anything published. So I’ve created this blog as a record of what I’ve learned. I want to share the experiences that shaped me in the hope they may offer some comfort to those who have gone through the same thing. I want to document my journey into getting my mojo back.
I have a number of things I hope to post over the coming months. It is an odd feeling casting these word into cyberspace with, currently, not one follower on here or on Twitter. But it doesn’t really matter. I am doing it for me – a vanity project, if you like. I haven’t got the skin or the make-up skills to indulge in the narcissism of youth, so call this a middle-age selfie. Opening up my insides which don’t match my outsides. I already feel quite liberated. The best possible outcome would be to make contact with women like me who feel invisible. Ones who used to rock out to Nirvana and Soundgarden; or Take That and Abba – it doesn’t matter- and now feel diminished with age. Let’s all find our mojos together. Let’s roar. My first drum lesson is on Monday – anyone want to join a middle -aged-frizzy-haired-slightly-overweight live band, give me a call.
PS I named this post WELL before ‘The Greatest Showman’ came out