Nora Ephron warned me this would happen. The late, great writer and general goddess wrote that a woman's neck starts to "go" at 43, no matter what anti-ageing steps she takes. I read this in my 20s and thought she was exaggerating. In my 40s, I realise it was an understatement. Because a lot of things are starting to go, or at least thinking about it.

I've seen several experts over the past few months about hip pain from running. All have pretty much shrugged and said: "Three kids? Mid 40s? It happens!" The diagnosis is a combination of overuse and genetic issues (maybe she's born with it, maybe it's hip dysplasia). I mentioned this to a fellow school mum, who essentially said "hold my beer" and told me she was having a hip replacement. "Still, at least it's not like the olden days where we'd just have done our childrearing and be put out to pasture!" She reflected that women with midlife pain historically had an even narrower toolbox: tonics, poultices or the sweet release of death. But our expectations of midlife bodies have changed dramatically even during our own lifetimes.

Growing up in the 1980s, women exercised to be thin rather than strong. Diet culture meant a generation starved themselves and ended up with bones like Crunchie bars. People were often missing a tooth past a certain vintage and British dentistry was a joke. Smoking was widespread, no one bothered with SPF beyond Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil, and sunbed culture was rife, so that everyone over fifty looked like a handbag. This wasn't considered desirable, necessarily, but it was normal.

Now, midlifers are encouraged to lift weights, monitor protein intake, use retinol, track sleep and manage body composition. The new midlife body is lean, toned, energetic and aesthetically youthful. Hollywood smiles, or at least Turkey teeth, are accessible to many more, while procedures and Instagram face mean it's increasingly difficult to guess someone's age. The term "hotspan" was coined by Bloomberg in May 2026 to describe the stretch of life where a person remains attractive, energetic and vital. Hairdresser George Northwood recently described it as "the modern midlife goal of nailing fit and sexy well into your 50s and 60s." Which sounds, well, exhausting.

Women in their 50s used to be nudging Golden Girls territory. Blanche Devereaux's Rue McClanahan was just 51 when the show first aired in 1985. I grew up watching Angela Lansbury in Murder, She Wrote (aka the best series ever, no, I'm not taking questions on this). When the show premiered in 1984, 58-year-old Lansbury had a neat helmet of butterscotch hair, no discernible waist, a brow that furrowed and eyes that crinkled when she smiled. She looked like a twinkly grandma.

Fifty-somethings on screen don't look like this anymore. Julia Roberts appears barely touched by time. Gillian Anderson is all glow and lithe limbs. Nicole Kidman is preternaturally ageless, on the cover of Vogue at 59. Everyone has a lion's mane of glossy hair. Back in 1990, Shirley MacLaine, then 56, played Meryl Streep's mother in Postcards from the Edge, a film based on Carrie Fisher's memoir. She has thinning, wispy hair and so wears a wig, something that wasn't uncommon in preceding decades. Hair naturally thins as we age and no one expected a woman in her 40s or 50s to have long, lustrous hair.

Today, we know more about nutrition. There are supplements and procedures aimed at postponing, concealing or modifying signs of ageing. Lasers can reverse years of sun damage, while biostimulators and fat stimulators help restore collagen and volume, apparently. I can't testify, since the new ideal of healthy ageing involves a huge investment of time and money, making it inaccessible to many.

Earlier this year, Jennifer Lopez shared a reel to her 240 million Instagram followers revealing her extensive pre-bed beauty regime, and that she gets nine hours' sleep a night. I might look like J-Lo if I had nine hours' sleep and all the treatments money can buy (alas, we'll never know). Instead, I've got laundry to do and a Teams call later. And this is the problem: privilege is often mistaken for discipline in modern times. If wrinkles can be treated, why have them? If muscle can be maintained, why be soft? If weight can be controlled, why gain it?

If someone online can get a six-pack at 50, why can't I? Here's why: it's not normal. Women naturally have a higher body fat percentage and have evolved with padding to protect our stomach and hips. Also: I didn't have a six-pack as a teenager so I'm very unlikely to shred myself one now. Yet the algorithm berates me for this daily.

I know, logically, that social media is an infinite stream of attractive people in impossibly clean kitchens. I know celebrities shouldn't be my corporeal lodestar. But I'm also a woman on Instagram in 2026. A recent study of women aged 40 to 65 found that many of us are feeling the pressure, with heavier social-media use linked to internalised appearance anxiety and more negative self-talk about weight and ageing. The plastic surgery industry is more than happy to capitalise: aesthetic procedures are up 40% on 2020. I'm lucky in that most of my friends are low-maintenance, down-to-earth types, friends from school or university who would no more consider surgery than a trip to the moon. Still, I feel bad about my neck. And hip.

Because it's not just the aesthetics: Nicole Kidman can still run. I've seen it on Instagram. Sure, she may also be genetically gifted, with a small army of personal trainers, physiotherapists, a masseuse, a sauna and bespoke orthotics. But still, howls at the moon, why can't my body do that?

When I'm feeling at my most despairing about my hip, or neck, or hair, I try to remember another of Ephron's pearls of wisdom from her 2006 essay collection I Feel Bad About My Neck: "Anything you think is wrong with your body at the age of 35, you will be nostalgic for at the age of 45." One of Ephron's regrets was that she hadn't worn a bikini enough when she was young. Many of us were encouraged to postpone enjoyment of our bodies until we had achieved the "right" one. But we can't spend our one wild and precious life waiting to become aesthetically acceptable. Or shelling out to companies pitching the fantasy of permanent youth.

Spoiler: ageing happens. The alternative is the sweet release of death. We might as well enjoy what we've got, now.

This is exactly the conversation Power Years exists to have. theALLBRIGHT's flagship day for women in their most influential years, on what your body, your judgment and your hard-won confidence are actually capable of, with none of the gloss. Join us on 6 November at Arding & Hobbs. [Book your place now] (https://theallbright.com/the-power-years/)