Why is it that when you are young all you want to be is older, then you reach a certain time of life, the scales tip and then getting older is the last thing you want to be?
Take teenage girls; eyelinered up, friend’s big sisters dress and heels so high when walking they look more like Bambi taking his first precarious steps than a model strutting her stuff.
Undeniably gorgeous they teeter out of taxis linking arms feeling all 'Sex and the city ‘and bravely attempt to bypass the doorman in the hope they won’t be id’d. Come on we’ve all done it.
Equally teenage boys long for the day when they can get their driving licence and take the pristeen 1994 citroen, thats been blocking the drive way for six months patiently waiting for a driving test to be passed, for a spin in the city centre.
Several years ago, by day I was a uni student, by night I channelled by own inner doorman as I stood behind the counter of an off licence. A job I loved because customers were always jovial, they were either going out for a big night on the town or staying in with a few drinks and were full of the joys of spring.
But every now and then a wide eyed chancer would come in. Sometimes alone, sometimes in packs for security, they’d teeter (in their Bambi heels) to the fridge and nervously grab several fluorescent alcopops which they’d then plant on the counter avoiding eye all contact. Or if they felt brave they’d go all out and ask for a ‘half bottle’ while staring at the ground or the ceiling, pretty much anywhere except at the person behind the counter for fear they’d be found out.
Then, inevitably, they would hear two dreaded words, Any ID? A licence would be abruptly slid across the counter. It was almost as if they were handling stolen goods and wanted to detach their prints from it as quickly possible. And no wonder because the photo and moreover the date of birth on the ID was no more them than it was Freddie Mercury.
One look and they knew they were caught, some laughed and quickly exited, some, mostly boys, tired to fight their case and say the photo was from years ago. I had to ask what moisturiser they used because the bearded bespectacled man in their photo looked nothing like the not yet shaving, fresh faced young’in stood before me.
Speaking of youth restoring lotions and potions, science boffins have created a ‘life extending pill’. Now anyone would be forgiven for thinking this ‘miracle pill’ would add years to your life, but it does quite the opposite, it takes years off, your appearance at least. Reckon that sounds a bit wacky? Well thousands of people across the UK would disagree because ‘Royal Green Astaxanthin’ to give it’s official name, has a waiting list of thousands and sold out within four hours when it went on sale this week in the UK.
According to those behind it the pill reduces visible signs of UV-aging through dietary supplementation within four to six weeks of use. Dietary supplementation? No thanks I’ll take crows feet anyday rather than give up my grannys applecakes!
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