Anything from Abercrombie & Fitch is suspect

In their tender hearts, men about 40s heat again and new visible erosion death prospect just when things can't get any more challenging may also have suddenly become very fat. This is a decade of unanswerable questions: I've told my life? I have a good father? I should start pension earlier? Should I put my prostate and take a look? Is the Toyota prius going that way? Is this all?
Our grandparents seek professional advice these little trouble, but we are spoilt for choice. Such a man as I will seek to treat all types, not all involve sitting beanbags. Have hotline and spiritual guidance, and at last they will have many more dilemmas and personal journey of botanical garden tickets, monks, can be in the next 40 years trying to understand the past forty. Somehow, we also deal with woolwich Openplan and daily traffic wardens, but still nobody answer the conversation mystery whether all stars can appropriate footwear for a man with long out by his hair.
I don't believe the midlife crisis existence surpasses Hampstead novels. Then people I know general began to buy things, have affairs, and no warning - self-doubt, a fading impression of youth, a little extra income, acres of fatigue and temptations of fresh beauty, and in my car dealers and marriage guidance. Now I won't let anyone do a joke mid-life crisis.
I have begun to go to superhero movies, and I sit with people I recognise: the young and the restless. I used to say that I went for the irony, but really I am hunting for clues. How is it, exactly, that the metaphorical bullet can be dodged? Is the prospect of becoming an International Man of Mystery in any way realistic? The prospect of escape is attractive, the throwing off of shackles and rituals, the shedding of needs and demands and the sloughing of old skin. We can act like snakes. What we want is irresponsibility, the opposite of what we have, and for a while we may believe the adverts and movies and the promise of an interest-free balance transfer, and run away.
We walked across Hampstead Heath to my 40th birthday party at Kenwood in March 2000, a glorious day of brunch and friends' buggies and kite-flying. Forty was just a number; nothing actually happened the next day or the next month, but a year later I was on the heath with all the other lonely dog walkers, and with all the other creeping and predictable ailments: the aching knee, the insistent nose and ear hair, my uncanny ability to eat as many moist desserts as I wanted no longer as true as it was.
Healthy bottom has a tennis court, just waiting for a beautiful car Daniel about my age run backward frantically searching high lob. The result is a twisted ankle. But it's not just pounds for your socks, twists as open gherkin jar, the waves as big as a melon, when you think you can hinder you will find that you can't. When you come from a try, etc. (the longest sixties after children and over - for the first time in this new casually many; those triage system, there are 40 biggest pain must join all other middle-aged get inflictors -- for any - in - thumb, never before - - - a - on roofers - in the behind of the queue), you'll find: heal much longer. But lucky we are these days if cure, if we can participate in the sports, also without tight strapping. We've been used to wearing surgical support all the years to come.
When motion is too much, or the weather is too difficult to do anything appearance, we are looking for ease logistics or some make noise and elastic. My shed ebay, through which I collect things I never know my interest is in at the age of 30. Forty is the first decade we try to recapture, because this is our youth in the first decade we believe it is over. And it may be serious when we don't know what happened, all these great games and toys and program explained our simple life in the 1960s.
Technology has enabled us to slow the ageing process for a while. We feel young enough even for MySpace, where we may deposit plinky-plonky Yamaha keyboard creations that no one will listen to. We may watch the opening sequence of Double Deckers on YouTube. We may Kerplunk and Buckaroo in the chill-out areas of nightclubs. But this isn't enough for me or my type, because thanks to the internet we are now able to own things our mothers threw away. For me it's the Corgi and Dinky cars - those Batmobiles and Man from U.N.C.L.E. Thrushbusters with winking Waverly ring. I should perhaps be ashamed. But they are so beautiful with their original boxes and working ejector seats!
Someone called it Teenile: the desire, unfamiliar to our parents, to wear clothes that make us think we are still the age of our children. Jeans are of course OK, so long as they are not distressed. I feel that Converse are borderline but may be worn when the sun's out. Beads are viable only at Glastonbury. Anything from Abercrombie & Fitch is suspect, particularly if it sports the logo. And khaki shorts must never happen, even on the hottest days.