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.