Remembering your first loves

So I am 46 today. It’s weird being middle-aged and awesome-super-cool because you have to keep reminding people that you are all that. (Well, not my husband. He knows.) It is just weird because when you’re young, you’re expected to be dynamic and thrusting (ahem) and all that. But if you’re as sharp as a tack and totally badass but look like a middle-aged auntiji, it can be hard to get past your image.

This year I have decided that the way to get past my image is to remember who I am in a more profound way. I am returning to painting. I was exceptionally good at art in my yoof. My art teacher was gutted when I had to drop my art A level due to our school’s inability to offer 4 A levels at that time. He had hoped I would go to art college and become a full-time artist. A few years back I drew a naked man as part of someone’s hen party and the model (who was also an artist) asked if I had had art training. Which was quite gratifying (if distracting due to my eye level).

I think remembering what you enjoyed as a child or teenager is a good way to begin bringing youthful exuberance back into your life when you hit middle age. Today think about what you really loved doing when you were younger and maybe give it a go again. Peace out!