They say that with age comes wisdom. It's just a shame that while the mind is accruing knowledge, skills and experience, the body is going in the opposite direction.

They say that with age comes wisdom. It's just a shame that while the mind is accruing knowledge, skills and experience, the body is going in the opposite direction.

While mentally I wouldn't want to swap places with my teenage self, I would do anything to have my 18-year-old body back (although I'm sure I managed to find flaws with it even then).

Being the perfectionist that I am, I've often lamented the loss of my former, more toned physique. I began my anti-wrinkle campaign at 18 when I bought my first pot of Ulay - now Olay - SPF 15 day cream; but even that hasn't stopped the odd fine line appearing (though the sunbathing probably didn't help).

Another quibble is hair colour. My mother was almost completely grey by the age of 30 and it seems I am heading, quite literally, in the same direction. I started finding the odd stray white one a few years ago now the buggers are sprouting through with vigour, hence the decision to reach for the bottle.

And just as I am coming to terms with the prospect of forever-more colouring my hair, another part of my body decides to deteriorate - one which costs a lot more to put right than a bottle of DIY hair dye.

I knew it was time to get my eyes checked when I realised I was squinting at road signs (in fact any signs) so I bit the bullet and booked an appointment.

Just as I suspected, my sight had gotten worse. The optician didn't even have to tell me the results; I knew from the fact he was doing tests I'd never had before that something must have changed. The prescription is only minus 0.50, which I'm told by some is hardly worth wearing glasses for, but having sat close to the back row of the theatre last night and not been able to focus on the performers, I know I need them.

Actually, I left the opticians feeling quite excited. Maybe it was the fact I was being given the go ahead to indulge in guilt-free retail therapy - being told you need glasses means you simply have to spend money on trendy designer frames. So, what with the full moon encroaching (I'm sure it makes me more susceptible to spending) I blew the best part of £300 on three pairs of snazzy specs; and that was with a 20%-off voucher.

Pair one I will wear for work, although I'm slightly regretting my choice of red frames as most of my wardrobe is bright pink; pair two are Jackie O-style sunglasses; and pair three have chunky, funky pink/orange and black (sounds hideous but trust me) frames that were an impulse buy - nothing to do with the fact that I was easily swayed by the '50%-off your second pair' offer and that they match my lipstick.

Of course, wearing specs is an admission that my previously perfect 20/20 vision has gone for good but perhaps they will have an added bonus of making me appear smarter?

Given the chance I'd take my old (or should that be young?) eye sight back in an instant. After all, I'd just about got my shoe habit under control and now I'm being exposed to a whole new and just as expensive accessory minefield!

But although I'd like to halt the aging process, I realise that this is impossible so I'll just have to embrace the changes. And who said specs can't be sexy and sophisticated anyway? I'm sure the tight white shirt, pencil skirt and high heeled secretary look would go down well in the office.