My birthday is looming and I am glooming. ‘Better let the fire station know when I’m lighting the candles,’ I quip. But before I can wheel out the whole routine about how ancient I am, my friend Ann fixes me with a steely stare from beneath her perfect Sassoon bob. There is an arch of an eyebrow. ‘Sharon, we are at the height of our powers,’ she says, in a voice that brooks no opposition.
And I realise she’s right. I’ve fallen into the terrible habit of making silly, ageist comments about myself all the time. I blithely stoke society’s prejudice against midlife women, adding to the damaging narrative that works against us – especially in the workplace.
