Sorry, not sorry for being 40

A few weeks ago, I was invited to contribute to a magazine via a features editor who found me on Twitter. I was really flattered but before accepting, I felt compelled to ‘disclose’ that I was a good decade older than her average readership.

Why did it matter? Well clearly it did, as it was part of the questionnaire. I was worried that I would look incongruous placed next to the perky 20 somethings that the fashionistas were used to and that my opinions wouldn’t be relevant. Thankfully, the editor considered my 40 years as passable, but it could’ve easily gone the other way.

Immediately after filing my copy (where I don’t think I came across as an out of touch has been), I chastised myself for being an inverse ageist.
Age appropriateness is a funny thing, I’ve never really thought about it until now but it strikes me that there is a code that women of a certain age (not men) must adhere to or fall foul of the ‘who does she think she is’ aspersions from both the Boden brigade AND the perky 20 somethings. The media can make turning 40 feel like walking a confusing tightrope between kidulthood and old-age.

Well sod that.

I’ve officially decided to blog myself into my 40s and it’s so damn liberating. The web was made for people like me, who don’t want to be categorised or who don’t quite fit into the demographics of traditional media. The blogosphere is built on self expression, optimism, experimentation and making friends, just like my old clubbing days but without the tinnitus.

I’m going for it. I’m becoming a blogger and I’m giving it some proper welly over the next few months to see how far I can take it.

A cultural experiment, a reinvention, an adventure…call it what you will, I hope you’ll come with me for the ride.

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