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The big lie in later life

 

Personal View 

 

Harriet Ewe on why women lie about their age

 

In our youth-obsessed society, more and more women feel the need to lie about their age. I had not realised what a common phenomenon this was until a friend rang me with an invitation to her birthday party. Having established that I could go, she made me solemnly swear not to mention her age to any of the guests.  ‘It’s my sister’s fault,’ she explained in a breathless voice, ‘When she started lying about her age, I had to start lying about mine. I’ve told so many different versions, I can no longer remember how old I’m supposed to be.’ 

My own family has a long tradition of being economical with the years. My mother tackled the ageing process by turning it into a taboo. She never celebrated her birthday and refused point-blank to reveal her age. In family mythology, she remained eternally stuck at thirty-one, the number of our house. In the end, fame was her nemesis. On hitting the big 60, she appeared in The Times’ birthday list.  Denial was no longer possible. She had been well and truly outed.  

 

Before her, my grandmother wasn’t just economical with the truth – she made it up as she went along. After her husband’s death, she rejuvenated herself by fifteen years, altering every document she could lay her hands on, including her passport.   Blessed with great beauty and amazingly youthful looks, she soon had a string of admirers, all young enough to be her children. Her only problem was explaining how she managed to have a son aged twenty - my father. But luckily, he was at university, enabling her to give the impression that he was a mere boy of seven away at boarding-school. 

To remain of value, desirable and attractive, women have so many more deadlines to meet than men. Their journeys are strewn with terrifying landmarks, both biological and social. Teetering constantly on the brink of anachronism, it is not surprising that so many of them are tempted to extend their sell by date, to prolong their shelf life (without wanting to be left on it for ever). 

But what’s so ironic about the whole business of age is that after a certain point, antiquity, as it does in the wine business, becomes something to brag about. Years, as they roll by, are seen as a defiance of death - small intimations of immortality.  ‘Bet you can’t guess how old I am,’ old-age pensioners crow, waving their bus passes in your face.  

But heaven help you if you get it right.

You can also take a look at previous personal views by Harriet Ewe:

Personal view 1 - Hobbies                 
Personal view 2 - Shopping
Personal view 3 - Moths
Personal view 4 - cholesterol
Personal view 5 - Haemorrhoids 

 

    


 

laterlife interest

The above article is part of the features section of laterlife.com called laterlife interest. laterlife interest contains a variety of articles of interest for visitors to laterlife.com written by a number of experienced and new journalists.

It includes both one off articles and also regular columns of a more specialist nature such as healthwise, reports from the REACH files, and a beauty section called looking good in later life.

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