As you get older some things get looser. Things that used to be tight become loose. I’m thinking here about those muscles that keep your stomach flat – I believe they’re called abs? Is that really a thing? I’m pretty sure abs are a modern innovation. Well, when I was young we’d never heard of them.

Neither did we know about such things as probiotics, superfoods, ADHD, gluten intolerance, or narcissism. If someone said you were ‘on the spectrum’ (and just about everyone is these days) I would have imagined they were talking about their favourite colour. Perhaps whether they are an Autumn or a Spring. Remember in the ‘80s when you paid someone a ridiculous amount of money to tell you what colours look good on you?

Anyway, I digress. And this is exactly what I mean. As you get older things get a bit looser. You lose focus. And your car keys. I was thinking about this idea of looseness the other day, probably when I noticed the skin on my arms and the way it moves when I hold my arms up. Note to self. Wear long sleeves. Alternatively do not put your arms up.

Or I may have been thinking about the way I approach anything remotely related to work these days. Some things are definitely getting looser around here.

Society values tightness. We prefer things to be tight. Tight fiscal policy is good, right? Tight abs and pecs and those other fit sounding body parts – they’re good. If you sleep tight the bed bugs won’t bite. I wonder what seriously nasty things might befall me if start to sleep loose. I guess that would make me a loose woman and goodness knows, we all know where that leads.

The Bible says and I quote: ‘Do not go to meet a loose woman lest you fall into her snares.’ Hah! What about loose men? And where are they please?

I must admit that as I get older I’m getting looser all around. My shape is somewhat looser than it used to be. I’m more of a beanbag than a mid-century modern chair. And as for being a loose woman, well loose morals were always frowned upon back in the day. Yes, my morals are definitely starting to lose their tautness in a kind of ‘what the hell, time’s running out’ kinda fashion. And I’m pretty OK about it, in a loose kind of way.

These days I’m all for loose comfort rather than speed. For example, I hate tight clothes. Mind you, apparently tight clothes are sexy. Like that tight sheath, I used to fit into. Or those figure-hugging jeans that show your comely shape. I now think of these things as a form of voluntary bondage.

Forget tight shoes. Tight corners. Tight tights. Tight lips.

Let’s all loosen up and embrace our looseness.

Yes, even our loose lips. I intend to sink as many ships as I can.