Invisible women?

I popped over to the local superstore earlier on, in search of some t-shirts for work. Whilst in the changing room I was accosted by a friend that I haven't seen for a while.

'Quick, come in here' she said 'Tell me what you think of this.'

I was confronted by a heaving bosom straining under some garish looking sequins.

'See, this is the trouble.' she moaned ' Nothing fits, sizes are all wrong and what does it matter anyway?'

'Course it matters, we all like to look nice' I said.

'No, it's no good,' she said eyeing my Sunday best 'at forty no one notices what you're wearing. No one at all.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes, when you get to our age you might as well be invisible.'

I left her trying to yank the dodgy looking sequins back over her head, paid for my t-shirts and headed outside.

The wind was just getting up as I crossed the car park and my butterfly skirt started blowing up. I battled with it, grabbing handfuls of fabric to stop my dignity from blowing away as well, but in the end I thought 'sod it. Let it go, I'm invisible, who's going to notice?'

Funny really, being forty is quite liberating!