My name is Sarah and I’m 40


I’m panicking.

I see myself as the latest, agile Lara Croft/Trinity/Catwoman/The Bride*, who could floor Mr Stranger-Danger in a couple of backflips and with a nicely placed (think Karate Kid), meditated karate chop here and there.

In my mind’s eye.

In my head I am young. I am fit. I am supple. And I am bendy. Apparently in all different directions.

And that, despite never having been a contortionist at any point in my lifetime. Or having stepped a leather slipper through the ballet class door or even attempted kung fu.

Although, to be fair, I did give judo more than a fair shot. I heaved myself all the way to a yellow belt. Then I promptly dislocated my left arm while running up the little hill between my home and the car park. I’d been skipping, you see. And I needed to tidy my rope into the outhouse before being allowed to join my parents in the car.

Tidiness was never my strong point.

Anyway, I began my ascent up the hill and tripped over my own silly foot.

After months of rehearsing for such falls, I obeyed my teacher (actually my aunt) and threw my stick-girl body at the ground.

Somehow, strangely, something went wrong and my arm popped right out of its socket.

I screamed with all my might and surrounding neighbours came out of their houses to vomit at the spectacle.

My mum took on a ghostly appearance as I repeatedly yelled, “I broke my arm! I broke my arm!” (Just in case someone in a neighbouring suburb hadn’t heard me).

The nurses at the hospital exhibited me proudly. Workers appeared from ward after ward to look at my now extraordinarily long arm.

The fabulous news is: it got me out of judo class. Forever.

Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes yoga. I attempted yoga. But unbelievably, dodgy knees and yoga don’t, well, harmonise.

I’m panicking slightly.

I’m 40.

And it may well be that I never ever reach my full potential.

*Delete as you feel appropriate

***Add on***

Driving my five-year old (who’s soon to be six and so excited about that fact, that she’s telling the dental receptionist, her husband, the postman and his dog, the delivery man, the woman at the bakers and any other random stranger she comes into contact with) to her ballet class this evening she asked me about the story I had been writing today.

As usual, she said, “I know that one!”

My stories are all known and constantly reiterated by my children. At times wrongly.Which, I can tell you, can lead to even more embarrassment than the events themselves actually had done.

We talked a little of fantasising and fantasies that could never become a reality.

Then she decided to inform me that she has a lot of fantasies and I could have some of them.

That pricked my interest, I can tell you.

But after further questioning she “couldn’t quite remember” any of her own envisionings.

She then went on to offer to teach me judo, having never been to a single judo class in her short life (though who knows what’s happened in her daydreams?)

Allegedly, I have to fall on my hands and my knees next time.

So, now I know.

33 thoughts on “My name is Sarah and I’m 40”

  1. I’m 41! I know just want you mean. But I still feel young, so I will keep trying.🙂 And try not to break anything. Haha.

    Too funny on your almost six-year-old. I can only imagine the tales. My stepdaughter is already planning her birthday party for June 2013. She will be 7. Lol! Kids crack me up.

    1. I have broken a couple of things in the last couple of years. My little finger (falling down the stairs). My tailbone (falling down the stairs). Uh-oh – there seems to be a pattern here…

      5/6/7 is a fabulous age, I think.

    1. I’m glad you enjoyed it. My ‘Mr Tickle arm’ as it’s otherwise known, has since recovered. Although the doctors reset it wrong, they then dislocated it again and reset it again, but it was still wrong so now I have a strangely angled arm…

    1. I keep planning to stay but who knows?😉

      My five-year old described me as ‘cuddly’ the other day. Then, herself realised what she just said and then apologised. Just brilliant!!

      My seventeen and fourteen-year olds tell me I’m cool. I have no idea however that came about because I was never cool in my youth. (Do you think they’re just buttering me up for something?)😀

      I am thinking of taking part in NaNoWriMo. I need to make my mind up.

  2. Aw bless her! I’m glad I’m not the only one whose kids know all my stories and then tell them incorrectly to others! I also have 20 years of classes of students who do the same!

    1. The most embarrassing ones are when they tell the teacher and the whole class at school!!

      At some point you may read a story from your own life that has been passed on over the years and so embellished that you don’t even realise it’s about you.

    1. Little A will entertain you, that’s for sure.

      I’d like to be 30 again and know what I know now. Or 20 again and be where I am now…

      Oh, sorry, I’m fantasising again.😉

  3. ‘surrounding neighbours came out of their houses to vomit at the spectacle’

    That did make me chuckle.🙂

  4. I’m sure if it weren’t for grade-schoolers us adults would bumble through life with no direction, too dumb to do anything right. I know this must be so because my own soon-to-be 8 year old is definitely the fountain of wisdom on all subjects. Such as, when discussing gravity and how it works equally on objects of different mass to make them hit the ground at the same time she argued that this was not true at all. The reason why gravity doesn’t work this way was, “This rock is prettier than the other and I just imagined in my head that it would have to hit the ground before the uglier rock.” And a demonstration ensued that in no way resembled the logic of my spud, and yet, she proudly and emphatically waved her hands at the two rocks on the ground and said, “Ta-dah!” Too completely caught up in her own imagination to even notice she was wrong much less be brought to admit it. Thank goodness she straightened me out before I take my next physics class next fall!

    1. I’m sure, should they ever meet my 5yo and your 8yo would hit it off tremendously. They’d put the whole world to rights.

      Absolutely fantastic.

      1. 😉

        I read your comment and I was so tired I couldn’t get it into my head that you were commenting on this post rather than the most recent post. I kept wondering where I had written that Akasha had married.

        I need more sleep…..😉

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