Acting our age

Is there any woman - young or old - who hasn't had something to say already on the extraordinary Christa D'Souza article in Sunday's Observer Woman? The trouble for me is how it brings back all the insecurities from the school playground. If I say I don't really think I want to look like Melanie Roberts (which I didn't) then everyone will turn round and say it's because I'm just jealous of her blonde hair and teeny feet. If I say I don't want to hang around watching the boys play football but would prefer to do something interesting on my own, it's because the boys don't want me to watch anyway. If I say I don't want to kiss Timothy Robinson, then its because I'm frightened he might not want to kiss me... you get the picture. But now I'm older, I don't care what you might say back - I really really don't want to look like Christa D'Souza. I don't want that level of fear she - and the others interviewed - must live with everyday when they look in the mirror. If I was lucky enough to have the time to do yoga three times a week, I'd hope it would take me beyond the physical benefits and to learn something about the spiritual holistic side too. But the article can't be real, can it? That's about the only thing I could think about when I was reading it. Surely this has to be some kind of joke, and then I couldn't help feel a sadness for everyone involved. And even more sad when it's printed in a magazine called Observer Woman. Still, I suppose it just proves us women aren't proper adults - as Christa says 'I am obsessed with age. But admit it, aren't you too?'. Yes, that's it - we all want to wear short denim skirts and flirt with dads so that the other mums won't like us and then no one will be our friend long enough to tell us just to Grow Up. Thank heavens for this blog anyway, but my favourite post on the whole subject is from yarnstorm. It's almost enough to make me take up knitting, but then of course I've never been pretty enough to worry about losing my looks anyway....