Am I Fucking Middle-Aged?

Take my middle-age quiz and share your wisdom for our new name!

Welcome to my newsletter Life, The Universe & Everything. I'm on a mission to explore how creativity, community and storytelling support mental wellness.

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Last week I needed a replacement driver’s license, so off I went to the dull office notorious for long lines and unending paperwork. I’d actually been driving my car without a license for over 6 months because I couldn’t be arsed getting it done; I can hear my mother gasping like I’ve just hit a small child with my EV.

I stood at the DMV desk confirming my official documentation with a nice woman in pink framed glasses and a grey bob. She looked smart and efficient.

“Yes, that’s still my address.”

“Yes, that’s still my height and weight.” (oh shit…what weight did I lie about last time?)

And then the woman peered over her pink frames and asked me, “Eyes Brown, Hair Brown?” with a tentative question mark that hung like a guillotine above my youth.

I froze, my grey hair curling like medusa snakes in silver and grey.

Was this it?

Was I going to commit to being grey?

Right here in the slightly stuffy DMV office wearing my socks and Birkenstocks was I going forever grey? 

Was I, a 47 year old woman who isn’t young, but doesn’t yet feel old going to commit my grey hair to government files? 

I grinned and eeked out, “I guess grey?” with a lengthy question mark asking for her to say, “Oh you’re too young dear to have grey hair.” And instead she smirked and typed in with steady fingers: 

G 
R 
E 
Y

The guillotine fell.

I immediately left the office with an ache in my left knee as my brain repeated: you’re middle-aged, you’re middle-aged, you’re middle-aged. I slammed my car door and yelled, MIDDLE AGE SUCKS.

The word middle-age does suck.

Men have midlife crises with affairs and new Tesla's, and women are just middle-aged. Men are silver foxes prancing around with rich virility and women enter MENOPAUSE, the end of reproduction. (Let’s save that tirade for another essay.)

Now, I fully admit a lot of the despair I feel around middle-agedness comes from my own programmed view. I’ve been taught well by mainstream media and the patriarchy that at middle age you have certain key characteristics. 

Let’s do a Middle-Aged Quiz. Fun!

Score 1 point for each yes, possible score out of 10:

• Start drinking more cups of tea

• Wear supportive and comfortable shoes that are easy to get on and off

• Let your middle-age spread relax and spill over your elastic waistband pants

• Start to notice that restaurants are really fucking loud

• Have more time for yourself, if you’ve had or raised children

• Take up a craft with that new time

• Continue planning your retirement

• Watch your close friends get divorced

• Perform the trombone with restaurant menus, pulling it in and out to find the perfect viewing angle.

• Being home by 10:30pm on Friday night feels like the perfect night out.

Now I shall take my own quiz:

• At least two cups of tea each afternoon, petting my cat with a digestive biscuit (2 points)

• Birkenstock mules and Dr. Marten boots that have a zipper up the side (2 points)

• I’ve always had middle-aged spread, even at aged 10 (1 point)

• I’ve always thought restaurants and bars were too fucking loud (2 points)

• I do have more time since my 10 year old ALWAYS WANTS TO BE ON HER IPAD (1 point)

• I am getting a lot more garment sewing done (1 point)

• Retirement - bah! I’ll be working until the day I cough up phlegm and die in bed, dictating an essay to my AI powered nurse and executive assistant (0 points)

• So many friends are divorcing. And friends are remarrying (3 points minus 1 point = 2 points)

• I perform restaurant trombones often and have even caught myself wanting to use my reading glasses at games night. I have a game night, that sounds middle-aged. (2 points)

• 10:30pm is a bit late (2 points)

I got 15 points out of 10. OH FUCK ME. I AM officially middle aged.

So I’ve got two options here:

1. Take back the term middle-aged and own it with courage and pride - not fucking likely

2. Come up with my own term or name. 

In everyday life I want a name that makes me feel not young, but not yet old. I want to feel excited and empowered and ragey and loud and give no fucks.

Some Possible Name Contenders

Grown Girl
For some time my bestie and I have been referring to ourselves as Grown Girls. I am a girl, but the term feels a little juvenile for 47. However it is totally appropriate in my besties RAV4, driving through twisty roads, blasting Bohemian Rhapsody, sipping coffee and smoking weed. GROWN GIRL!

NYNYO (👂’s like ni-ni-o)
Not Young, Not Yet Old gives us NYNYO. It doesn’t roll off the tongue, but I can get behind the snappiness. Try it out like you’re saying nite-nite. Ni-Ni-O

Crone
I do love crone for it’s powerful giving no fucks energy. But the lovely

Catherine Newman

has already got that Crone Sandwich base firmly, and with great skill, covered.

So for now I’m going to call myself a NYNYO. Maybe it’ll stick. But until I’ve come across the perfect term to describe this hot, forgetful, joyful, grieving, rage state NYNYO will do.

Okay friends, tell me your quiz score and what should we call ourselves? I need your wisdom!

Love
Annabel
xxoo

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