Life’s a bitch, you grown old, you die.

OK so it’s not a great philosophical sound byte but it works for stand up comics, metaphysical poets and grumpy university lecturers in post-modernist philosophy, it pays the bills and keeps them out of mischief. It doesn’t work for me though. From the age of 30 onwards, we begin to look into the mirror and wonder where the flower of youth went. Apparently, women are putting up a valiant fight against the seven signs of ageing, whatever they are, and it must be a losing battle.

It has to be – because I see unhappy young things on the telly with frowns worrying about the onset of age, that spiteful, dreadful thing that’s out to get us. It seems a pot of night cream with pooptypoptides in it will make it all go away, so that’s alright then.

It has to be, because the previously worried girl on my telly catwalks back into her hectic and glamorous lifestyle, frown lines gone – the guy sat in the sports car leaning over her holds her door open, a twinkle in his eye and a camera lens flash on his perfect teeth. Everything in paradise back to normal, thank you Oilay.

Mind you, the sports car guy had a close call too, he was looking tired and that twinkle needed help. Many a girl who passes by looked at him like he was a pensioner or something. So he took Pierce Brosnan’s advice and squirted a bit of Lorryoil onto the hideous bags ‘neath each eye. Bish bosh – The International Man of Mystery twinkle returns. Result! A dab of ordinary common or garden Nivea would have done just as well but hey – he’s worth it. Anyway, why is Pierce Brosnan worried about losing boyish good looks? He never had them – he was and is ruggedly handsome, more so now than ever. It’s how we like our 007. Nobody is going to take his license to kill seriously if he looks like Pete Doherty or Russell Brand are they? Ageing gracefully used to mean twin sets, coffee mornings and knitting patterns, for men it involved rather more in the way of rough shag to fill the pipe, Werthers Original and caravan clubs. That doesn’t work for me either.

It’s a cliché but here goes anyway – “growing old is a mandatory, growing up is optional. So true. Hitting 40 doesn’t mean selling up for a Bungalow at Codger on Sea and crashing into fifty doesn’t mean disbursing your goods and chattels then wandering out onto the ice floe never to return, like a good Eskimo no longer a burden to the younger brethren. Age is a state of mind. An intelligent woman 45 can be gorgeous, engaging and vivacious, to the intelligent man, she has more appeal than any inexperienced Britney wannabe, and she very likely has the legs both physically and metaphorically, to make enduring relationships work. You went out and bought this magazine, ergo – you are intelligent, cosmopolitan and savvy – so you will get this. Life may be a bitch for some, for those who don’t have our choices and our opportunities, but for us, it’s what we make it, which is why I can promise you that the best is yet to come. Each year adds another 365 days of additional wisdom, additional savvy. It brings compassion and insight. Still getting that? Good, now get this – each additional decade gives a greater understanding of passion sexuality, the nuances of touch, aroma and sensuality. A Beaujolais Nouveau is fine, if you want to drink something sultry, sophisticated – to savour as it touches the lips, it needs to have seen the seasons come and go. I teach fitness and provide wellbeing programmes to private women, media women and celebrities very much in the public eye – to all of them the message is the same; It isn’t about being thin any more, its about being fit, in mind body and soul. You can age gracefully if you want to, but a little disgracefully too now and then is good for the soul, and the fitter you are, the more enjoyable it can be, nobody said you have to leave your Mojo at the door when you get there. I am Lady Lipgloss and I can’t make you thin, I only do fit, vibrant and happy.

Ciao Darlings