Crepey

I have now been forty for almost a full year (it's my birthday next week, groom the pygmy goats, pile the choux high) and I think I have only learnt three things, all negatives:

1. If you value your sanity, don't write a memoir.

2. If you disregard the first piece of valuable advice, don't use any song lyrics in your memoir.

2. Don't take a picture of your own neck. WHOA. I only learnt this one yesterday. I had trapped my neck in the zip of my coat for the second time in a week and wanted to commemorate this high water mark of idiocy, but then I saw this picture and now I know that death is imminent, so I don't need to worry about working out how not to trap my neck in zips.

What the fuck? Whose neck is that? The crêpey, creepy texture! The age spots! Who the hell knew? I could quite happily have gone on not knowing, thanks.


Other news:

I have filled the garden with fat balls and nuts and now I can't go anywhere or do anything because I have to stare at tits like a pensioner during all the hours of daylight. WITH BINOCULARS. Mostly the tits sit on the wall and watch as a persistent crow tries to untie the half coconut and carry it away, but I enjoy that too. Ooh! The jay is back! Now it has gone again. Etc. until it is time for the children to come home from school and F says "what have you done today?" and I have to make up something about, um, law?

I am wearing red lipstick today in a fit of .. something. I never ever ever wear red lipstick and have twice caught sight of my reflection and not recognised myself. Thankfully the massive spot on my nose tipped me off.

If I hold a tissue against it, you cannot see the giant nose buboe, impeccable logic there.

I'm experimenting with lipstick because to my sadness, I simply cannot wear eyeliner any more, it brings me out in hideous itchy spots along my inner lids that make me want to put my head through a shredder. My thinking is that I could essay a "strong lip" and style it out as a positive decision rather than having fool eyes, but lipstick is much higher maintenance than a quick swoosh of gel liner so I may just resign myself to looking like a potato.

Now I have to go out and buy tiramisu because last weekend a whole family sized one accidentally fell into my mouth and I have been deeply and lengthily shamed for this by my family, who are insisting I buy new one for each of them. My only real regret about this is telling them about the existence of the tiramisu in the first place instead of sneaking off to bed to eat it in glowering, blissful silence.

Percentages:

50% Not at all sorry about the tiramisu
50% Spiritually a sea toad

You? What have you learnt in the past year? And do you have any red lipstick recommendations for a woman with awfully British teeth?