There's many a s-lip

This afternoon I was at the gym: stretching on my yoga mat, when a gym cougar hove into view. There's a few of them at the institute: girls in their very late 40's, in damn good nick, who prowl around flirting with the 20-something trainer boys.   

The gym cougars are always in full hair and make-up.  They wear the latest Nike's and strap i-pod nanos to their forearms.  They get the young guys to spot them on free-weights or to hold the boxing bag.  They're seemingly oblivious to wrinkled skin on their inner arms, or the wattle on the back of their thighs.  I've got to be honest, I am fascinated:  it's like watching your mum get drunk on sherry and can-can at your engagement party.   

This cougar's wearing teeny-weenie tie-dyed booty shorts and a matching vest. For those of you who don't know what booty shorts are - check out any rap video happening poolside. Those tiny little short shaped bikini bottoms ... dem's booty shorts.   

She mounts one of those big inflated gym balls, centres herself, lays back and splays her legs into a wide V.  I'm trapped, sitting about three feet away and facing her ... eye to eye with her va-jay-jay.  I'm a bit panicked, what do I do, shall I move - no I'll just brazen it out, take a yoga stance of no judgement.

Then La Cougar starts crunching away energetically, and suddenly a lip pops out.  A shiny bit of girly lip.  I got such a fright I choked on my own spit. It took me a good few minutes to pull myself back together, and when I looked back (WHY, WHY, WHY did I look back??) she caught my eye and smiled holding my glance for just a second too long.  

I'm still in shock.  What now?  I can't go back.  I'm going to have to avoid the gym for a while.  And what if she greets me when I do see her next?  

Kidney chi and jelly

This blog was born on a massage table. It was born whilst a masseuse held my foot and told me she was checking my 'kidney-chi'. Huh? "Your kidney chi". She shiatsus a spot on my right instep and it hurts like hell: "because women your age start to lose their fire and I want to see how you are doing".

What? Then it dawns - oh my god - she's talking about menopause! She thinks I'm old enough enough for the menopause. I'm only 48 for God's sake. Priya senses my shock - she looks down at me and smiles: "you're OK - you've got masses of fire left...." Good to know - but it got me thinking..

The fact that I am fast approaching fifty had become a new persona for me. My younger friends love to introduce me: "this is my friend gg, can you believe she's almost 50!"    Responses vary – "wow you don’t look it",  "you could never tell",  "blimey - you look nothing like my mom".   And once, memorably;  "Lishen, the reashon I’ve been talking with you so much ish I love to fuck older women".   This from a 250 pound, 32 year old man, who could barely stand for the number of vodka tonics he’d been throwing down his neck all evening.   

"Thanks for the kind offer, but I'll pass."  

"Oh come onnn, you're almosht fifty."  

The web is full of sites aimed at me: arguments for and against HRT, statistics on the difficulty of finding a man after 50, tips for dealing with mid-life depression, cosmetic surgery hints.  Forum after forum bemoan this dark-age which seems to be heralded by a newly dry vagina. I mean, when on EARTH did that become an appropriate conversation starter? And hello ... anyone familiar with the letters K and Y?  

I still wear 7forallmankind jeans and t-strings. I go to yoga classes and have fashionable bikini waxes. I read fashion magazines, watch new movies, travel, love art and a great cocktail, adore 30Rock and buy lots of new music. I'm not ready for a dry anything at all.

And, I don't believe that '50 is the new 40' nonsense. What the hell does it mean anyway? I'm certainly not about to start doing things I didn't do when I was 40. I'm still embarrassed about some of the things I did do. 50 is not 40. Fifty is fifty and anything else is an ill-advised leotard,

So - my plan is to make sure that '50 is the new 50'. I am going to do that by really participating in my life. For the next 15 months (at least) I am going to go where I am invited, try new tastes and sounds and colours and looks, write up my experiences - and generally put together a "write of passage" into my next half century. I have no idea what that will involve ... but I am going to find out.