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Hiya 🙂


I will be forty at the end of this year, and I am already noticing that my body is…different.  It has an agenda, it seems to want to rush into old age and offer no reprieve.

I am not a vain person.  I rarely wear makeup other than a bit of eyeliner, and even then I can go a few days together without applying any.  But under my chin and down to my neck has gone a bit crepe-papery, and that bugs me.

I have had glasses since I was six years old, and I was literally born frowning, but recently the furrows seem to be dug extra deep; and I am wondering what time wants to sow in there.

I am starting to see my Nana looking back at me in the mirror.  Is there not a whole generation skip that’s happened there?!  Why can’t I just morph into my mother for a while, then go for Nana in 20 years?

From Jimpix

I know that a lot of it has to do with the 3 stone I managed to toss from July 15 to May 16, the fact I see a lot of weather on the school run (but not enough moisturiser) and that I rarely get more than 4-6 hours’ sleep – but I still feel a bit cheated.  I’ve not really lived yet, and here I am beginning to look like I sun-worship or something (chance’d be a fine thing…).

I took far too long in Aldi deciding which day cream to buy, yesterday.  I actually had to ask myself whether I came into the ‘mature skin’ bracket yet.  I went for a more generic anti-aging with SPF deal, and saw on the box that it is recommended for 35 years up.  *Sigh*

So the poem took shape from this background, and I worked in ‘molybdenum’, too!





Tweezers  Share  Authentic  Molybdenum  Ossified  Constant  Macaron  Want Drone


I am not fond of tweezers.

I do not want them to share

Even the air

Around my poor phizog.

But then, to leave those hairs


Revolts me, too.


It may be the fashion

To have molybdenum locks


But soon it’ll be real and –

Well, I’m not that keen.


I’ve watched my opinions

Become ossified over the years,

But hope I’m still liberal?


I’m planning to be craftier

And have myself more ‘sorted’

By the time I’m 50.

In a decade

Will I suddenly become

A constant baker?

Will my quest

For the perfect macaron

Overshadow my joy

At managing a decent macaroon?


Are my kids even going to want

To be around me

As I change

Into something a little more…frumpy?


Will I drone instead of enthuse

This time next year…?



I am assuming you know that a ‘macaron’ and a ‘macaroon’ have not-so-subtle differences.  (Like the fact I have actually attempted to make the latter). You know that ‘phizog’ is another word for face too, yeah?  We used that word a lot when I was growing up, but I wasn’t sure how to spell it…!

Is your body starting to rebel against you at what you consider too young an age?  Do you need a hug…?!



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4 Responses to “Ossified?”

  1. Jane Wright Says:

    Clever use of tricky words

  2. Montaffera Says:

    Thanks! 🙂 x

  3. Jennifer Patino Says:

    Sure, I’ll take a hug. I’ll be 34 in June and the grey hairs are taking over! >< That might be cool though, I'll decide as more pop up. 😄

    I loved your poem. It made me smile and I learned new words.

  4. Montaffera Says:

    Awww thanks hun, you’re such an enabler 😉 ((hugs)) x

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