Tomorrow, I turn fifty.
I can’t believe I am going to be fifty. I remember the fiftieth birthdays of my parents and my gran, and thinking how old they seemed.
I feel youthful and I know that I do not look my age. For that, I am grateful. It’s the thought of actually being fifty that is troubling me.
I had no issue with becoming forty. I was looking forward to it, as this really was supposed to be ‘the year that life began’, as the saying goes. In addition to reaching a landmark age, I was getting married and qualifying into a profession I had spent many years as a mature student studying and training for. Neither the marriage nor the profession turned out as expected. A few years later I developed a serious health issue that required many operations, which has changed the course of my life. My forties, so far, had not been the happy and successful time I had anticipated.
Soon after my last major operation, my sexual reawakening began. I was 46. My alter ego, Miss Scarlet, appeared. As my confidence grew, I embarked on a series of sexual adventures, none of which proved to be anything special. That was until last year, when I met my beloved S, who has bought me so much happiness and changed my life for the better in so many ways.
I am entering this next decade with much to look forward to and I keep telling myself fifty is the new forty.
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