As we get older, we’re in danger of becoming invisible. Our hair turns grey or white and our skin becomes thinner and paler. We can all start looking alike if we’re not careful. Well we’re not alike and we never have been, but our individuality can be rubbed out through age both literally and metaphorically. That’s why it’s important to make an effort when we go out, to be colourful, to stand out, to be noticed.
I’ve made a commitment this month to be more colourful, to be noticed and to contribute to my community.
It’s been a fun week, kicked off by wearing red, white and blue to our local Jubilee garden party, where the 'most patriotic dress' prize went to a lady dressed head to toe in Union Jack flags. My blue jeans, red top, white jacket and union flag earrings were a pretty feeble attempt in comparison.
Undeterred I soldiered on during the week. I’ve started thinking of myself as a piece of living art and that's helped. Every day as I rise (what a great Pepysian phrase that is), I consider my wardrobe and how I’m feeling and choose to wear an outfit that has at least one bright colour and three pieces of jewellery. I’ve worn a bright orange scarf over a black jacket, matched with an orange umbrella and my black fedora with a red ribbon round the brim. I’ve worn multi-coloured layers to ward off the mid-week rain and to a birthday party yesterday, I wore a bright blue chiffon top over a black and white flowered pencil skirt and slapped on red lipstick. It’s a combination that is a bit ‘in your face’ for me; I thought perhaps I had overdone it. To my surprise it worked and three guests at the party told me I look fabulous.
To make my presence felt in the community, I’ve joined the Brighton branch of the national Action for Happiness group. Wherever we are on the income scale, it has doubled over the past 50 years but we are no happier. Additional income, above a certain level, apparently makes no difference to one’s happiness.
Something is going wrong. At the inaugural meeting, I sat next to a man who was definitely not happy. “I thought this was going to be a small group,” he said looking around at the packed room of about 50 people, “I’ve come all the way from Hastings for this meeting and they’re not even offering a cup of tea. I’m starting to think about my route home.”
Ah, is happiness for the English – a cup of tea, preferably offered with a chocolate digestive? I suspect it is.
What are you doing this week to stand out from the crowd and wear your maturity with PRIDE?
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