Ageing (dis) Gracefully…

The tennis court had been transformed into an outdoor dining delight – fairy lights scattered around the perimeter of the ant bed playing surface and throughout nearby trees, shedding soft light on the white linen lining one huge long table down the centre of the court. The gorgeous square handmade honey-coloured candles (from our wedding) glowed at intervals, echoing the unmatchable backdrop of the Milky Way overhead.

Each guest had been asked to prepare and bring a part of a dish for the menu- until they were seated, they had no idea how their offering would be used.

Menus on the tables read:

Tapas
Bush Babe’s spinach & feta cigars
Jesse’s mushrooms with Leesa’s Lebanese toasts
Bron’s aioli with Mary’s sweet potato crisps

Entrée
Molly’s Smoked Salmon Salad with Max’s Moreton Bay Bugs

Main
Baz’s Roasted Filet with Gina’s Mushroom Jus on bed of Sara’s Cous Cous
(on the side)
Cara’s steamed vegies
Gerry’s tomato relish & Bush Babe’s onion relish

Dessert
Anna’s sticky date puddings, with Kerry’s butterscotch sauce & Shelley’s cracked toffee.

After
Geri’s fruit & Jessica’s selection of cheeses and quince paste

A couple of Year 12 girls had been commandeered and trucked out from the nearest town (some 50km away) for the event and were busily organizing food in the kitchen, under the watchful eye of SSL (one of my super-organised, super-achieving sisters-in-law). Another teenager was placed in charge of the 20 or so kids (ages 1-15) – an effort possibly worth a blog on its own!

The laughter of friends blended with the rhythms of my favourite artists – Keith Urban, Doobie Brothers, Robbie Williams (yes, I am a confused woman but this is what can happen when you straddle city and country, many decades and two centuries!). Between each course, we all moved four seats along the table – ensuring each had the chance to speak to every other guest and forcing people out of their usual groups. The conversations were curious and long, loud, peppered with genuine interest and filled with laughter.

I have no idea how much alcohol was imbibed (lots), how much was spilt (red wine does come out with LOTS of salt apparently!), how many tall tales were shared, how many were believed (some city folk are VERY gullible!)… but it was incredible. A “top night” in laconic Aussie vernacular. It went on to the very wee hours (about 3.30am) and many stayed over, crammed into every imaginable corner of our big old house.

I was so happy and tired I could barely talk (and no it wasn’t just the wine… well, maybe the last 4 glasses were unnecessary, but who was counting). My friends still talk about this night – great people, great location, great food. Some even took the time to take some snaps to capture the magic. And, being me, I found time somehow to take the odd shot too.

(You are wondering when the hell I am going to get to the “fat” part in the headline, aren’t you. Hang tight, nearly there.)

I got some lovely shots from the night – to preserve my friends anonymity, you will just have to believe me. And my oldest friend took a shot of me taking a shot of someone else. Nothing major. She gave it to me yesterday.

Now I am no runway model, but I have always been reasonably presentable with a bit of elbow grease. Not Elle McPherson, sure, but not troll-like either. In a certain light, in the mirror, from the shoulders up, after several sorts of makeup are applied to enhance the bits that are OK, I kinda look much like I did 15 years ago. Or so I thought.

Not in this photo I didn’t. I looked pudgy, and slouchy and… middle aged! I felt kinda sick just looking at it. And it made it SOOOO much worse to know that since then, I have gained another 5+ kilos!! Oh my GOD… was THAT what I looked like to everyone else? Definitely time for a diet, to swat away the cobwebs and break out the exercise bike, to do 50 laps of the pool daily… I was well and truly fired up by the time I got home from visiting my well-meaning, super-skinny friend!

Then I walked in the door and noticed my laptop screensaver flashing the photos I had taken at my party. The laughing faces of my friends were there in all their glory – and I suddenly noticed most had some little creases on their happy mugs, perhaps a little extra padding could be detected in some cases, than they had 10 years ago. While I was taking those snaps, capturing their camaraderie and joy, I hadn’t noticed the wear and tear extolled by the years through our friendship. I had only noticed (and worried about) mine. How very silly and shallow.

And that’s the joy of my revelation last night. I may still pin that awful troll portrait to the fridge and let it inspire me to lose those extra kilos, I may remember to stand up straighter more often… but I will not lose a wink of sleep over worrying about being “middle aged”.

Damn it – I prefer to think of it as “middle aged to perfection” …with my mates!