The other day when purchasing a bottle of supermarket plonk I was asked for proof of age. Being nigh on 38 years old, this came as a bit of a surprise. In this instance, proof of age turned out to be nothing more official than my cracked smile and breathless thank yous for making my day, half-way though which I was waved on with no further questions. I went home glowing happily while also aghast at the derangement of the sales assistant. Were it not for my dodgy knees, I believe I would have skipped. You see, a few years ago I quietly buried any last hopes of ever being ID’d again, saying to myself, ‘well old gal, thosedays are behind you – let’s just get on with nurturing a dowager’s hump and eroding the rest of your knee cartilage,’ which I duly did.
Had the incident been a one-off I would have treated it as a freak event and carried on as usual, but in the same week I was ID’d a further three times by three different sales assistants in three different brands of supermarket. By the way, I am not an alcoholic – I’m just addicted to being mistaken for someone who has to prove that they are over 25.
Bemused and delighted, I cast around for an explanation – what had changed in the past couple of weeks to knock more than a decade off my supermarket age? The answer: I had just broken the eight session mark in a course of Alexander Technique, my dowager’s hump was less humpy and my dodgy knee had got its spring back after we discovered that I have spent most of my life locking my knees and pressing them back like a sergeant major.
More people need to know about the cosmetic benefits of Alexander Technique – it is definitely not shouting enough about its youth-giving, elixir-like qualities. However, you can go too far – I am starting to fear taking many more lessons in case next time I’m in Sainsbury’s, a concerned sales assistant puts out a tannoy call for my mummy (whose idea it was for me to take Alexander lessons – thanks mum).