The Midlife Nurse

So I’m middle aged. Am I? Is this the downhill turn? I think perhaps I may well have been on the way down already but haven’t stopped to realise it yet. Lockdown is over and life is returning to normal but I’m always late to pick up on things. I’m still wearing a mask when I go shopping or into pubs. When everyone was watching line of duty season 6 I was on season 2. It’s been like that my whole life – when teens were wearing peddle pushers I was wearing Capri pants and when all the cool girls were wearing Capri pants I was in peddle pushers. I started my nursing degree 20 years after everyone else too. There’s so much more but you get the idea. I’m drinking out of a glass with 18 on it because I feel I have been hormonally unstable since I was 18 years old – nothing has changed. Except my fitness. I went for a walk with a friend of mine who isn’t known for her fitness regime so while I was expecting a stroll and a chit chat, she frogmarched me 5 miles at a brisk pace and I now need a hip replacement. I’m now consoling myself with Prosecco and contemplating the varied choices of suitors on my dating app. Looking at my options and think I’ll settle for a jigsaw and a kneeling mat so I can spend more time on my herbaceous borders and less time reading profiles of the balding, overweight or arrogant, telling me what they don’t want in a woman. Boys – let me just say – you make growing old alone with 25 cats and hoarding carrier bags look like a serious option. Just a little tip worth considering. Oh sorry – there are a couple of exceptions ….. Connor messaged me earlier this week. His opening line was “hey babe”. He’s 23 years old. I think I’ll just leave it there.