rivettingKateTaylor

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or get grumpy when I read a story on the stuff website this morning that apparently I have hit middle age.

I’m 37. I laughed.

The item says worries about the economy and healthcare are pushing people into middle age earlier, making 35 the new 40. Research by the Philips Center for Health and Well-Being (just the name makes you cringe) showed that 40 had previously been widely considered as the milestone that defined middle age but this had been lowered to 35.

Absolute codswollop.  For goodness sake.

We are living longer. So many retired people are not sitting in their Lazy Boy with a cup of tea and Coro (no offence Mum lol) but buying motorhomes and zooming around the countryside or playing golf, going bungy jumping or cycling the rail trail with their grandies.

Middle age to me is when you suddenly realise you have no kids at home, the mortgage doesn’t make you cry and one bottle of wine is enough to keep you happy. Bring it on! (but not til I’m 50 please).

My mum’s genes dictate that I will live til a grand old age unless a big red bus gets me first.  I am not two years into middle age.  All the people in the US interviewed by the Philips Center for Blouses need to pack up sticks and move to Godzone.

My only worries this morning (apart from the 2000 word story that needs to be written instead of this blog) are watering my veges and deciding what to have for lunch.

Hakuna Matata.