Accepting The Inevitable

Justin has realised he can’t turn back the clock and is considering how to grow older gracefully

- Justin Moorhouse

I’VE worn the same clothes most of my life. Nice trainers, the best jeans I can afford and smart-ish t-shirts. When you are halfway through your life as I at 47 expect I am, then you need to come to terms with certain things about yourself. For instance I’ve acknowledged, and indeed accepted, that I’ll never be a professional footballer. Not with my knees. I’m fully aware that my looks won’t be enough to get me through life and that my current level of morbid obesity can’t be put down to lingering puppy fat.

I’ve not really told many people but there was a six month period about five years ago as the grey spread that I considered dying my hair. When I say considered, what I mean is I actually dyed it. When I say I dyed it, I mean I made an appointment, had a consultation and on a number of occasions sat in a chair while a man tried to halt the ravages of time on my follicles. I realised the stupidity and vanity of my guilty secret when most people I knew happened to walk past the barbers window and popped in to laugh at me. So I gave up the King Canutesque attempt at forcing back the power of nature and allowed the waves of salt and pepper to wash across me.