I’m becoming increasingly interested in not so much what we think about other people/places/things – but how we see ourselves.
My Dad’s friends (in their 60s and 70s) are constantly telling him (and me) that they can’t possibly be as old as the other people their age look. It isn’t because they’re vain – they just don’t feel that old.
I certainly don’t feel like I’m in my mid 30s. In my head I’m stuck somewhere around 24 at the moment. I look at women my age with two or three children and really can’t get my head round the fact that we’re the same age. Obviously they’re two pregnancies, a lot of sleepless nights and only-five-minutes-to-get-ready-this-morning behind me in the looks department, but even so. They just seem so much more grown up, so very much older than me.
Which makes it very hard to worry about things like pensions and joint health when in your head you don’t feel like you’ve even really grown up yet.
We had a couple of elderly relatives to stay last month. I watched these ladies (both in their early 80s) nattering away, giggling and gossiping and I realised they could just as easily be 20somethings at Starbucks working their way through the latest issue of Heat. Then they told me about how being a widow meant the disappointment of not having anyone to dance with at tea dances, which to be honest is equally applicable to modern singletons at the average wedding when the slow dances come on.
It would be very easy to fall into the trap of writing creative briefs aimed at people as others see them – when in fact we should be considering how they see themselves.