The Hawaii 5.0.’s

A few of us in our ‘Writing for Wellbeing’ class turned 50 this year, so we each decided to write how we felt about it.  As I’ve only got a couple of months left before I officially become ‘over 50’, I thought I’d blog about it, alongside a photo of myself dressed up in my best Glam Rock gear (best not to ask!) It’s a very tongue-in-cheek, light-hearted view about becoming 50.  I might not end up doing any of what I say that I’ll do in my 50’s (except the nude sunbathing, I’m so doing that!)

Alt text: A coloured photo of a white woman with long blond hair that’s styled in a 80’s-frizz. She’s sitting in a purple wheelchair, in her front room.  She’s leaning forward in her chair with her arms outstretched & her eyes closed.  She’s wearing a lot of thick make up including long false, black eyelashes & dark blue/ grey eyeshadow.  She’s wearing a white headband with ‘Henge’ written across it in black capitals, & a purple cape, a black long-sleeved jumper, a silver top, blue/purple leggings with a night-skyscape printed on them & white furry boots. 

I’m delighted to have made it to 50.  Who knew that would actually happen? As a disabled baby, I was given 3 days to live, so I figure that any extra day that I get to have is a bonus.  To reach 50 was always my goal & then I felt that I could take it easy for the rest of my days.  But then at 49 I got diagnosed with breast cancer, then my surgery was cancelled due to the pandemic, & so those two events combined threw a big spanner in the works.  I honestly thought someone was having a laugh when the consultant confirmed that I had cancer.  I thought that because I’d survived so long with my disability, that I was ‘home & dry’, never imaging that a life-threatening disease would come along to test me.

But here I am, at 50 & 10 months. 

I don’t want to (over) ‘achieve’ anymore.  I just want to ‘be’; suspended in space & time, in the moment.  50 is great.  50 is a powerful milestone.  50 means that I don’t have to put up with your s*** anymore.  50 means that I can do & say whatever the hell I like.  50 means being menopausal & boy are the hormones raging through me, pushed along by the ‘Zoladex’ shots.  50 means that I’ve never felt it more important to be a feminist than I do right now.  50 means that I’m going to shout even louder than I’ve ever done before (yes, that is possible for a loud mouth like me!)  50 means a whole lot of rich life experience behind me & a whole lot of adventures to come.

50 means that I have saved enough money to have a posh kitchen.  I’ve waited all my life for a grown-up kitchen (well, I’ve waited since November 2017).  I’ve ‘come of age’ with my kitchen & its double oven & extendable mix-tap.  I shall want nothing more in materialistic things.

50 means that I can have a SAGA Holiday & relax in a Warner Hotel (other brand holidays & hotels are available).  I envied my grandparents & my great aunts & uncles because they always looked like they had so much fun at these places – singing, dancing & sending up life with their friends.  I want to aspire to being on endless holidays.

I can still go partying & laugh along with all the young people who exclaim “But you can’t be 50, I would never have guessed!”

“Thank you,” I reply modestly, secretly thinking “Yep, I still got it.”

In a few years’ time perhaps I can retire.  I can spend my days dancing to the radio.  I’ll sunbathe nude in the garden just to piss off my millionaire neighbours when they are ‘corporate entertaining.’  I won’t have to do a stroke of work. 

So, if you want me, I’ll be in the garden drinking gin, regaling everyone with my tales of misadventure, thrills & bellyaches whilst working on the edges of the music industry.  I’ll leave you to work out what I’ve embellished & what parts I’ve left out, because what goes on tour, stays on tour… 

Published by The Musings of Spu

I'm an Essex girl who went West to find fame and fortune. 'The Musings of Spu' is the home of all my creative output, whether that be my writing or the 'stuff' I've made.

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