The curtain having recently fallen on my 50s, I find myself frequently contemplating the shape of the years ahead. So, with a gin in one hand and a Walnut Whip in the other, I thought I’d turn to my trusted pal, my wellbeing guide, my sherpa in the desert of time, my Gwyn, for advice on how to proceed into my seventh decade.
And, my goodness, did I make the right decision. Having waded through countless column inches of Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle and wellness publication Goop over the years (my bible in times of uncertainty), I’m now fully equipped, once again, to pole-vault into a future of renewed mental, physical, emotional and sexual health. Phew.
Basically, ageing well is all about gut, genitals and gusto.
Let’s start with the easy bit, shall we? Right, here it is, an essential, if somewhat reduced, guide to gut health. We more mature picnickers on the blanket of life should avoid herbicides, preservatives, artificial ingredients and alcohol. We must also avoid gluten, found in bread and beer, both of which can cause systemic inflammation and leakiness. (And no one wants to be leaky, do they?)
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Conversely, beer and bread (especially if you stick cheese and pickles in a couple of slices and sit down to watch the footie) can make you feel full and happy. But ask yourself: what’s the point of happiness if it disrupts your microbiome, eh? Riddle me that.
We must also avoid sweets, starches, conventionally farmed meat, poultry and dairy products.
But what else, I hear you bleat, is left?
Well, there’s sauerkraut. You wanna be a sexy, nimble sexagenarian, you gotta eat sauerkraut. Eat sauerkraut and drink filtered water—there’s not much more to it.
Apparently, you cannot overestimate the importance of belly-bubbling Bavaria—sorry, I mean belly-benefiting bacteria. And when you’re really sick of sauerkraut, you can eat tomatoes, garlic, onions, radishes, leeks, asparagus and Jerusalem artichokes. One’s cup runneth over, eh?
Re exercise: just do it. Buy a skipping rope, but mind the knees.
Oh yeah, and sleep. Sleep more. Sleep all day. Sleep all day and all night; it’ll stop you reaching for a cold blue gin. Sleep enables your hormones to do their job rather than prop you up while you’re dribbling in front of Netflix and trying to remember if you’ve seen this Scandi drama already.
Apparently, most of the symptoms we usually attribute to ageing are actually a loss of function. So avoid stress and, crucially, reconnect to your sense of purpose and community. You’re going to have to stand on your own two blistered feet to do this. You can’t expect Gwynnie to mop up your existential angst and find meaning in your weary life. She’s a busy woman; she could be preparing alarmingly aromatic candles or healthfully inserting organic eggs into her yoni.
Anyway, on to sex. Don’t run crying to Gwyn about your shrinking libido or your sleepy extremities; just take things into your own (or someone else’s) hands and find out what your sexual blueprint is. And if you don’t know your blueprint at your age, you’re not only not at the picnic, mate, you’re not even in the woods.
According to Goop there are five types of sexual blueprint. There’s the Sensual Type, the Energetic Type, the Sexual Type, the Kinky Type and the Shapeshifter. Did I say five? Sorry, I meant six; I momentarily forgot about the Couldn’t-Be-Arsed Type.
But how do I find out what type I am, I hear you cry! I’m glad you asked. According to the article I consulted in Goop, you take a fork (yes, I did say a fork) and then you use it to touch your body. (I wish I was making this up, but I’m not.)
If, say, you rather enjoy the sensation of running the fork over yourself while someone licks the back of your knees, simultaneously feeding you organic chocolate (produced in a pesticide-free environment by spiritually fulfilled chocolatiers wearing hemp culottes and reading Proust on their lunch breaks), then odds-on you’re a Sensual Type.
Scratch yourself too deeply with said fork and you’re a Kinky. Take pleasure from running said fork upside-down and sideways, “contouring” the innocent piece of cutlery over your clothed/unclothed body, and you’re either a Sexual or an Energetic Type. And if you’re happy doing the whole lot, with gusto, you’re a Shapeshifter.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world from California, the Couldn’t-Be-Arsed Types use their forks to scratch their temples and eat lukewarm chicken korma. With some people you just can’t win, Gywn.