Counting down

If age is just a number, then mine is up!

There is nothing that makes me feel my age more than a long haul flight. Gone are the days when I would look forward to spending nine to 12 hours in an airplane, getting stuck into the champagne and watching one crappy movie after another until it was time to land. The length of the queues at immigration never succeeded in getting me down. And the moment I checked into a hotel, I was pulling clothes out of my suitcase to head out for a fancy meal.

That, suffice to say, is no longer the case. Now, much as I enjoy going on holiday, the very thought of a long-haul flight is enough to strike terror into my heart, which I try to quell by preparing for every eventuality. I put together an in-flight medicine bag full of anti-histamines and other sleeping aids – which I consume with the only glass of champagne I allow myself (drinking any more than that plays havoc with my sugar levels). I carry my own blanket so that I don’t get allergies from the ones provided by the airlines. And I pack a neck pillow to keep my neck supported while I read a book or watch a movie in an attempt to fall asleep.

But no matter how hard I try to have a restful flight that will allow me to hit the ground running at the other end, it never works out that way. The tiredness starts hitting me half-way through the flight and just gets worse and worse with every passing hour. By the time the flight lands, my back is hurting, my legs are cramping, my nose is stuffy, and I feel like a hundred years old.

By the time I have negotiated the horrors of the airport and got to the hotel, all I can do is collapse weakly on the bed and whisper, “Room service?” to my husband (who, annoyingly enough, is raring to go out and explore some restaurant he has checked out on the Internet). It takes one good night’s sleep in a normal bed before, well, normal service can be resumed, as far as I am concerned.

Sadly, this is not the only instance of my age finally catching up with me. These days, my life is littered with these daily indignities of ageing, all of them designed to make me feel every one of my decades and remind me that old age will be upon me sooner than I dared hope.

Here is just a random sampling of the age markers that are a part of my life now. If any of them sound familiar, well then welcome to the Club of Creaking Middle-Agers. (If they don’t, enjoy your youth while it lasts!)

• I visited a gurudwara after a long time recently, and as is the custom, did what we Punjabis call ‘matha teko’. That went off reasonably well, but trying to get upright afterwards was another story altogether. It took about five tries, my muscles creaking protest all the while, before I could get up from all fours. All of this rendered all the more horrific by the pile-up of people waiting behind me and the sympathetic eyes of those who witnessed my pitiful attempts.

• Low chairs and sofas have turned into my mortal enemies while I wasn’t paying attention. Now, they suck me into their contours so efficiently that more often than not I have to ask for a helping hand (or two) to get out of them. The same humiliation awaits when the seating has squishy cushions, the kind you sink into thankfully when you arrive and struggle to get out of when it is time to leave. 

• Stairs are no longer my friends. Instead they have morphed into a torture device that I attempt at my own peril. I am breathless after two flights (it’s the asthma, I tell myself reassuringly) and every flight after that brings me closer to that state when your heart is beating so loudly that you think it will burst out of your chest. And the way down is no easier, with my knees twinging with every step.

• My days of drinking like a fish and eating like a pig are over. Oh okay, I exaggerate. The truth is that I still go on binges and benders once in a while. But I no longer wake up fresh as a daisy the next day. Instead, it takes me a week to recover from a day’s excesses, and every single time that happens, it seems less and less worthwhile to indulge myself in the first place.

• Then, to add insult to injury, there is my slowing metabolism. No matter how many calories I cut from my diet and how many steps I add to my Fitbit, the stubborn bulges around my body simply refuse to budge. And while it gets easier and easier to put on weight – even an extra piece of toast at breakfast does the trick – it has become nigh impossible to lose it. 

• And finally, there is the insomnia that keeps me tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning, and makes me wake up tired every day. But this cloud, at least, has a silver lining. I can get a lot of reading done while the rest of the household sleeps, and somehow that makes it all worthwhile.

It’s only words...

What does the woman in your life want to hear?

Okay, fess up, what is your favourite compliment? What do you most enjoy hearing about yourself? Well, if you’re like most women, the first on the list would be those immortal words, “Have you lost weight?”

You can probably prove this by conducting an entirely unscientific survey among the ladies in your office. But an organisation called the Dental Care Plus Implants Centres (honestly, you couldn’t make this stuff up) actually commissioned a study among 2,000 men and women to come to this staggering conclusion. Some of the other gems from this ‘study’: women like to be told that they have a great smile; but for some reason they are not happy if you suggest that they might have had dental work done to achieve it. And yes, the ladies don’t like to be told that they look like (or are beginning to look like) their mothers.

So far, so predictable.

But I guess when it comes to compliments, it’s not that hard to read women. And based on my 40-something years of experience here’s a ready reckoner for all you guys out there who want to please the women (girlfriends, wives, sisters, mothers, bosses, colleagues, etc.) in your lives.

1) Sadly, I have to bow down to the wisdom of the study quoted above. Women do love being told that they are looking thinner.
But tread with caution. You don’t want to overdo it. There’s a difference between saying, “Have you lost weight?” and “How much weight you have lost!” The first implies that the lady in question is looking a little slimmer than she usually does. The second is just another way of pointing out what a fatty she was before she finally went off the carbs (helpful hint: you don’t want to do that).

2) You know how women have this tiresome way of being cagey about how old they are? Well, be a pet and play along. The next time the tricky subject of age comes up, let discretion be the better part of honesty. If a woman confesses to being on the wrong side of 40, this is your cue to say, “You’re kidding! There is no way you are more than 35.” And if you’re asked to guess how old she is, don’t blurt out the first figure that comes to mind. How old do you think she actually looks? Now, subtract 10 from that figure. That’s the magic answer that will have her beaming for days to some.

3) You can’t go wrong with a compliment about her kids. If she shows off pictures of her new-born, dutifully trill “What a cute baby!” It doesn’t matter if you don’t mean it. She’ll be so much in love with the mite that it simply won’t occur to her that anyone could resist that bundle of cuteness. If you can’t bear to lie so blatantly, fall back on the tried-and-tested formula of: “Gosh, he/she looks just like you.”

Remember to keep your remarks gender neutral though. Nobody likes to have their girl mistaken for a boy or vice versa. And at that age, it’s hell to tell the sexes apart.

Caution: this ‘chho-chweet’ stuff should only be used on children below the age of 14. Any older than that and your drooling and cooing is just plain inappropriate – if not a tad creepy.

4) Compliment her on stuff that she’s a bit insecure about. A beautiful woman is always being told how beautiful she is. So, don’t bother telling her that all over again. But the chances are that she feels as if nobody can see beyond her good looks. So, praise her quick intelligence, her ability to hold her own in an argument, or even her wide and varied reading. If she feels you are captivated by her brain rather than her face, she will be putty in her hands. (With a brainy but not particularly beautiful woman, reverse and repeat.)

5) It’s not just about who you compliment; it’s also about who you don’t. Don’t tell her that her best friend has a fantastic figure, or that her sister looks great after her new haircut, or that the new recruit at your office is quite a looker. She doesn’t need to know how you feel about other women; it’s just going to make her feel that you compare her to them (and find her wanting). In her hearing, at least, compliment only her.


And while we are on the subject, here’s a quick word about what a woman doesn’t want to hear. “Gosh, you look tired!” No woman wants to be told that, especially if she has made an effort for a night out. (And it is even more annoying when she is not feeling tired at all.)

Actually, come to think of it, no man wants to hear that either. So if that’s all you’ve got to say, have the goodness to shut up.