I have a t-shirt-type top that my husband thinks is too young for me. I know this because when I came home with it, he gave me that look that speaks volumes, and then said something along the lines of, “Isn’t it a bit too cool?”.
What he meant was, “isn’t it a bit too cool and young and fashionable for a mother of 3 who’s rapidly approaching 40”.
At the time, I dismissed his look and clearly misguided comments, and assured him I most definitely wasn’t too old to be wearing a tiny vest top with a faded image of a Union Jack and some Beatles lyrics printed on it.
However, ever since that night, I’ve been secretly concerned that he may actually have a point and so I’ve taken to wearing it only when he’s out.
For no particular reason, I took this top with me to Mauritius and one morning, feeling brave, (and ever so cool), I decided to put it on. I checked in the mirror and somehow convinced myself that I did indeed look youthful, and fashionable, and very much a yummy mummy in my oh so cool top and equally small shorts.
I headed downstairs to join twinsdaddy and the troops for breakfast, and was greeted by the blonde at the bottom of the staircase eyeing me suspiciously.
She quietly observed me before cocking her head to one side and saying,
“And what are you wearing?”, in a tone that can only have been taught by Trinny Woodall herself.
I truly thought those types of conversations wouldn’t be happening for at least another 10 years, and when they did, it would be me doing the enquiring.
Needless to say, the t-shirt hasn’t been worn since.