It occurred to me this morning as I was, for the first time ever, removing facial hair (eeek!), that the sun streaming in through the curtains meant that summer was on it's way. Thinking ahead as I pulled my jeans on, I mentally went through the summer items in my wardrobe and reluctantly admitted to myself that maybe some of my skirts might be too short. I was too old to carry off such styles. My god! When did that happen?!

I'd had a discussion with my daughter a couple of nights previous, whilst brushing her hair, about how tall she was getting. At just seven, she is already counting how many years until she goes up to high school; just over three, in fact. At which point I informed her that I will be almost 32 when that happens. That, to me seems a long way off, or even an age that other people get to, but not me. There it is though, I had my daughter when I was twenty and here I am less than two years off thirty years old. People always told me that time seems to pass faster when you have children, I soon realised that this was true, but never did I imagine that that would mean I'd get to a point where short skirts or low cut tops were for a generation younger than myself. That's scary, isn't it?!

I don't know how this has happened, it's almost as if a little switch in my mind has been triggered and suddenly I've reached a maturity that I thought was reserved for other women. Or perhaps it's the influence of society, somehow it has infiltrated my mind that certain styles of clothing are not acceptable past a certain age. I scared myself with those thoughts, how was I suddenly not confident enough to bare a little bit of leg come the warm weather, when did I get that boring?

As the 'baby' in my group of friends I really didn't see this coming. We, none of us thinks twice about showing some flesh on a night out, it's all part of the fun. Not, I hasten to add, that we show too much, but if everything that 'should' be covered is, then it's all about what colour your top is and what accessories to wear. Never before have I caught myself considering whether I'm too old for any particular style.

I don't feel that I've suddenly changed as a person, that my behaviour or personality are any different, but something inside my head has altered. I'm not suddenly more responsible or mature, that side of me has been in existence for years, yet I'm seeing myself in a different light.

I wouldn't have thought that this change has been brought on by society's expectations either, or else surely I would find myself thinking similar things about my friends, who all have at least a couple of years on me. I don't though, I don't see them as too old for anything. I find this bizarre. What on earth has shifted in my perceptions of myself? And if I'm 'too old' for little skirts, then am I too old for nights out which last 'til 2am?

I suspect that some of these thoughts have originated from the realisation that my oldest daughter really isn't going to be a little girl for too much longer. The surest way of making yourself feel old is to count how old your child is, or to cast your mind back to their baby days and realise that it is somewhat a hazy memory.

Perhaps, it is the simple fact that it's been an extremely cold winter, and I have become that accustomed to being wrapped up in layers of clothing that the thought of minimal clothing is a little unsettling. Maybe I'm not getting old just yet. Perhaps, as the weather warms up my attitude will change and I will come to realise I do still have the confidence to bare a little flesh. Or, maybe I wont, maybe the fact that my daughter is fast growing up and will be considering fashion soon, means that my time has gone. There will be certain fashions that are for a generation that I am no longer a part of.

It just seems to me that suddenly I am no longer a young mum, I need to start giving more consideration to whether I can carry an image off. I have a slim physique but that doesn't give me the OK to wear young fashions.

I may find that I can get past these thoughts and carry on being the 'me' that I am used to being. Or I may invest in some anti-aging night creams and hang up my stillettos.

No, I can't see myself giving up my immature side completely, why should I?! I can be a responsible adult, without being old. Perhaps I will find a compromise; come in from the pub at 1am, and make sure I put my night cream on before I fall asleep. Hehe.

(C) Copyright Jema Preece-Kelly March 2010