There's a famous poem (Warning) by Jenny Joseph that promises that she will wear purple (with a red hat that doesn't go) when she gets old. As several of my chums fall under the knife and my own body becomes a thing of aches, pains and wrinkles I was thinking about aging.

Every day in my little town you seen older women trotting around - in slacks and shapeless jumpers, fleeces and flat comfy shoes. There hair is white or grey and usually cut in a style that is utilitarian rather than stylish. They look happy, they look full of life - they look old.

But we won't have that pleasure will we, us current 40-summats? What with the Madonnas of this world and the pressure to hold back the years, comfortable aging is being denied us. We will have to be thin, youthfully skinned and fashionably dressed until we are more or less dead. They'll be no let up from the gym or time when we can eat a curry, followed by sponge and custard, followed by a few glasses of something. Marks and Spencer will close the classic section of their shop and New Look will open a senior department.

Our tummies will still have to be flat and our breasts pert - they'll be no hiding in pastel coloured baggy jumpers and beige elasticated waist trousers for us. Hair will have to be long, coiffed and shiny till the day we turn up our toes.

It's all a bit of a bugger really - I was looking forward to the end of all this turmoil and self-consciousness about my body. I was hoping to wear purple (with a red hat that doesn't go...)