This week I have a birthday. Another number, another year.
There’s a brilliant line in a book by Suzanne Spunner called “Running up a dress” which comments on looking in the mirror with your mother and realising that the young face has somehow aged, without you looking. This is a sentiment that I didn’t believe in when I first heard it (at the ripe old age where I knew everything, yes, that was 13) and always thought that I would notice my mother changing, I mean she’s right in front of me, I still see her everyday - how could I not notice?
And then one day I looked at her and realised that somehow she had changed. The once permed hair was leaner and there was less of it, her eyes were cloudier than they had been, her skin had more lines on it than before… How could I have missed these things?
The body ages in mysterious ways, it isn’t a straight line. It jumps and darts and some days you’re 21, others, well… we’ve all had those days. Yet, and I’m not being trite here - really, the most beautiful person of any age is who they are and how they wear it. Being confident in who you are and being proud of the person in your skin that is what makes a person beautiful.
And I’m beginning to believe that numbers, well they lie.
