I must be getting old

It has just occurred to me,
I am past my best.
Skimpy lacy underwear,
has been replaced
by sensible knickers
and a vest.

High heels!
I can't remember when,
I last tried them on
and dared to walk in them.

My hair styled, every day
and i had to be nice and tanned
Hours in my garden I'd lay,
or in a sunbooth I would stand.

My make-up, faultless!
It would take me hours
and an umbrella a necessity.
Even for the lightest showers.

When did I change?
Where did that person go?
The one with the energy,
the one who never felt low.

Who cleaned her house
to a brilliant shine.
Then did the garden,
just to fill the time.

It now takes me all morning,
to get up and get ready.
I'm now built for comfort.
Not a mini skirt or a teddy.

A glass of wine,
no a cup of tea.
Well at least it's true love,
otherwise out of the door
my poor partner would flee.