I have a new age today. The wrong side of 40, assuming there is a right side. Generally this wouldn’t annoy me, but I know that I’m in the next age bracket now when you fill forms in on the internet. Or when I scroll down to find my birth year, it’s starting to take a lot longer. Little Lindsay and Long in the Tooth Lindsay approach the 7th August quite differently.
Getting Out Of Bed
Long in the tooth Lindsay doesn’t want to. Little Lindsay wouldn’t have been able to sleep out of excitement. To be fair, long in the tooth Lindsay couldn’t sleep either, but that was through someone snoring, an uncomfortable mattress and an over attentive dog. A few games of Candy Crush and she was back sleeping like a baby. Or a restless one at least. Little Lindsay would have been downstairs in a flash; long in the tooth Lindsay wants waited on. She wants gifts fetched to her. She is a princess for the day, after all.
Little Lindsay would jump up at the sound of a knock at the door. It meant more presents and people coming to make a fuss of her. Long in the tooth Lindsay doesn’t want visitors. The house is a shit tip and she’s damned if she’s cleaning today. A violent knock at the door means she has to vacate her husband-less bed and that is just not acceptable. Her postman is a sadist. Not only is she having to face him wearing mismatched pyjamas with crazy woman hair, it’s not even a present for her! Stupidly, she gave birth 3 days after her 31st birthday and now only has 72 hours of prime mantelpiece space before her cards are binned to make way for the middle one’s. Today, Lindsay wants to socially distance herself from humans. And the dog.
Little Lindsay wasn’t one for going on a pub crawl but it did happen later on, once she had her ID card and could finally prove she was of legal age and not 12. Birthdays back then were an automatic ticket for some sort of outing. Restaurants, pubs, barbecues, weekends away, even the bloody Chippendales. Long in the tooth Lindsay doesn’t want to go out. She wants to stay in and knit. Knit!! She needs to take a serious look at herself. She’s like Forrest Gump with wool. She’s set off knitting squares and has no idea where she’s going with them. Apart from filling a box.
Looking In The Mirror
Little Lindsay would have looked the part. She would be wearing something she’d only opened 5 minutes previously. Four year old Lindsay in the photo is even accessorising with a necklace! (And I loved those Muppet slippers.) Her hair would be adorned with matching bows or, later, moussed to death into thick, tumbling tendrils before pregnancy and stressful children robbed her of far too many follicles. Little Lindsay would have happily smiled for photos without worrying about wrinkles appearing, chins doubling in size and light reflecting on greys. Long in the tooth Lindsay brushes her teeth with her eyes shut. She combs her hair with her back to the mirror. She moisturises as she wanders into rooms hunting out dirty laundry. If she applied make up, she’d resemble a manic clown. She’s going nowhere near a mirror today if she can help it. Her birth certificate proves her age. She doesn’t need her reflection to confirm it.
Little Lindsay wanted the whole world to know her new age. She’d gained a whole 12 months. But no new centimetres in height. She wore her badge with pride. Everyone she met had to wish her happy birthday because there was no mistaking that it was her special day. Long in the tooth Lindsay is in denial. She’s slowly sliding towards fifty; she’s passed the half way mark. She’s going to hunt out some younger photos or ones with a Snapchat filter to go with this blog. And delete her year of birth from Facebook.
Little Lindsay just wanted stuff. Lots of it. So does long in the tooth Lindsay. She just doesn’t want to have to wake her kids to get any. She prefers them asleep. She can happily stay in her bed and wait for gifts to arrive in dribs and drabs. Little Lindsay wanted them all now. A conveyor belt of surprises to rip open. She’d have been brilliant on the Generation Game. Long in the tooth Lindsay is already struggling to remember what she’s been given today.
So today was spent staying indoors with minimal human interaction. And that had nothing to do with COVID-19. That’s just how 46 year old Lindsay wanted it. She also thinks she may have a tipple or two tonight. Then she’ll be hungover tomorrow and will have to spend another day in bed. Result.