Nearly 40, So What Exactly Have I Learnt About Myself?

Crikey Moses people it’s 2018! I mean, how the heck did that happen?! I feel like I’ve blinked and 2017 has whooshed by me in a flash. It really was a whirlwind year and when I look back on it sadly, IVF is the main focus. What with appointments, injections, bloods taken, treatment, legs in the air and such like. It hasn’t all been bad, but I’d say it was one of those years that I’ll park in the ‘Let’s forget you for a while’ vault for now, thank you very much. Wanting to move on from my last post with something a bit more light hearted and having just had had my birthday (screaming face emoji) I wondered that, considering I’ll be turning 40 this year, what exactly have I learnt about myself thus far? What simple, silly things have these last 39 years taught me about ME, if anything?


First and foremost, and this is something that I’ve only cottoned onto in the last year or so and that is that I absolutely HAVE to wash my hair the night before. Any attempts to wash and dry my hair of a morning before leaving the house will leave me with ‘humidity hair’ or a rather large ‘Lions Mane’ that simply cannot be tamed.

If I want to go clothes shopping to buy for myself, I HAVE to go alone – any attempts to shop with the husband just leave me incredibly annoyed and huffing like a teenager. And most importantly is that I have to be in town before the shops open. Yep, I’m that loon who goes as all the market people are setting up. But hear me out. This gives me a chance to park easily (i.e. not on level 500), have a coffee and hopefully avoid the crowds. This is a habit passed down by my mother who use to take me to Guildford shopping centre about two hours before it opened on a Saturday morning. Thanks Mum.

I overheat massively (again, thanks Mum) and because of this I can’t wear lovely layers, scarfs or hats for any length of time. Not a nice walk to town and then into the shops, god know, I’m sweating before you know it and stripping off. Disrobing for all to see. I can just about do a bobble hat for a nice, cold walk somewhere but nothing more or else my forehead is in trouble and see previous statement for ‘humidity hair’. Joy.

High heels are not my friend. Any attempt at wearing any leads me to walking like a three year old wearing their mums shoes (think tiny, shoe dragging steps, wailing at husband to SLOW DOWN!) Trainers are my friend.

Despite my 39 years, I still haven’t yet learnt to handle my drink but I mean, who has, right? Hic.

I am a clumsy oaf, inherited from my father (thanks Dad) I thought that, come my thirties I might, you know, develop into a proper lady but no, if there’s anything to walk into or trip up over, be it a door, wall, shoe, child etc I will do it.

I’ve learnt that my childish sense of humour hasn’t waned over the years. A good fart (especially if from Olivia) can still keep me laughing for a good ten minutes, maybe more if it’s a real rumbler.

Despite being a *clears throat* mature woman, I don’t sleep well in the house on my own. I have to set various booby traps before going to bed, things that would really confuse a burglar like a clothes airer in front of the back door, misplaced shoes etc, and then I often lye awake listening to sounds for hours. This is the one thing I’d have hoped to have grown out of by now but nope.

After years of trying to pretend to be cool I’m embracing my newly-found-but-always-been-there dork, and as such I’m never without my trusty rucksack, ร  la French Exchange Student (see also, before comments about big hair and tripping over things, they go hand in hand with this)

And last but not least, if these past few months have taught me anything they’ve showed me that I am mentally stronger than I ever knew. A miscarriage is truly sole destroying but from something like this comes inner strength, one that I never knew I had. I will be heading into 2018 with my head held high, and with some positivity about what the New Year holds.

Happy New Year Everyone x

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