Sunday Mail - - OPINION -

You don’t so much put on weight as thicken.

To your hor­ror, the lovely lady fin­ishes wax­ing your eye­brows and asks if you want your up­per lip “ti­died up”.

Util­ity bills be­come in­creas­ingly fas­ci­nat­ing (not to men­tion ex­tor­tion­ate), as do the weather, med­i­cal re­search break­throughs and stud­ies in­volv­ing su­per foods.

Look­ing nice is still a pri­or­ity, but com­fort is king.

You watch care­fully on the TV to see if elite sports­peo­ple are singing the na­tional an­them and “tsk” when they don’t.

Your li­bido is as fiery as a re­run of Mid­somer Mur­ders (and you’d rather watch that any­way).

You say all the things you promised you’d never say, and of­ten they start with “When I was your age ...”

When the weather is fine, you think of it as a “good dry­ing day”.

You know the dif­fer­ence be­tween “your” and “you’re” (and “they’re”, “their” and “there”) and don’t think it’s rude to cor­rect those who don’t.

You squir­rel away some of your chil­dren’s favourite pic­ture books in the hope of one day read­ing them to your grand­kids.

The last time you went to a night­club was last cen­tury.

You de­mand quiet dur­ing the TV news and al­ways have the car ra­dio tuned to talk­back.

You think back to your younger days, when you thought you knew ev­ery­thing and re­alise you didn’t know much at all. And still don’t.

Even small acts of kind­ness make you emo­tional.

You hate your lower back be­ing cold.

You start to hear about friends of friends who’ve sud­denly be­come ill, or even trag­i­cally passed away, and it re­in­forces that a) good health is much more im­por­tant than great wealth, and b) clichés such as “Life is for the liv­ing” are bloody spot on.

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