BEING called by my official marital title doesn't make me feel very alluring.
"Good morning Mrs Pugh" is a statement I regularly respond to and although there's no getting away from it, hearing it makes me wince all the same. Especially so now I'm hurtling towards the grand old age of 40.
My title makes me feel like I should be a character from Postman Pat ... maybe working all the hours God sends behind a post office counter. Or even a storybook farmer's wife with ruddy cheeks and a matching cableknit sweater.
I can usually bat off any jokey references to my impending big birthday, that was until I received some post at the weekend. I'd only just got over my what-I-thought-premature invitation to join the Reader's Digest club. Now, I have been sent a catalogue from the clothing company "Fifty Plus - Fashion That Fits Your Lifestyle." I'm as happy as a celebrity with no cash, an eight-year-old with no Nintendo DS and Amy Winehouse with no hairspray .... all rolled into one.
The catalogue's introduction is quoted as saying: "Welcome to Fifty Plus, THE fashion catalogue created especially for you, upto size 34." How do these people know what my fashion preferences are? Or what size I currently measure in at, for all that matter.....?
Don't get me wrong - in the years that follow, olive green crochet button bobble cardigans may well hang in my wardrobe but not until I've outgrown my vast array of slinky halter neck tops thank you very much.
I've been told once before that I'm getting young in my old age which I take as a massive compliment. No matter how old you get, you should never allow for complacency.
Fashion police rule!
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