I don’t know quite when it happened but it has just dawned on me…I have become invisible.

Surprisingly it does not yet feel like a superpower but I am hopeful that that will come later.

I heard a very crude joke about the Invisible Man, Wonder Woman and Superman but I won’t go into that here, suffice to say invisibility is not all it’s cracked up to be.

If I may reminisce for a moment… there was a time when I lived without questioning my presence in the world.

In fact, I may even have complained once or twice about being noticed.

Back in the early 80s a wolf whistle from blokes on a building site was considered a chauvinist intrusion, to be met with some strong feminist indignation.  Even then though, there was always a smidge of quiet satisfaction that you had the power to turn heads.

And I suppose power is what it is all about – there is something about sexual attractiveness that gives you a sense of vibrant relevance in the world.

I believe… I‘ve been told… I may have even seen evidence of the fact, that in Europe and the UK, invisibility doesn’t afflict women quite so early as it does down under.

Wasn’t  In Praise of Older Women a bestseller in France?  I’m not sure it did so well here.

In the land of plenty, where women glow and men plunder, women can bank on the possibility of becoming invisible somewhere between their late 30s and 40s…by 50 you can expect to completely disappear.

But it is not only women who fade away. Salt and pepper locks are only as attractive as the George Clooney head and body upon which they rest.

Immersed as we are in blue skies and beaches, in a wealth and lifestyle we truly don’t appreciate, we have become addicted to all things fresh and new.

No wrinkles, no wisdom, no experience, no human patina  thank you – give us only nubile flesh, clean freshly painted walls on our minimalist villas and an I-phone .

We have always been early adopters of as much new technology as we can lay our hands on. We are so passionate about trends we have lost any real understanding of fashion; we are in love with market segmentation and are busy pitching product to the next gen almost in vitro.

We are in love with youth and all of its potential. As far as the subtle sensuality of a mature relationship…forget it.  We want the “six Russian babes in a Gold Coast apartment” that are advertised on late night TV…never mind that they look for all the world like 16 year olds who have been playing in the make-up box. 

But to add insult to injury as I slowly fade away, I am also faced with the specter of being defined as a burden.

Hardly a day passes without some news item or another lamenting the looming tragedy for the economy that the baby boomers are set to become.

There we are in our thousands – soon to be frail and troublesome - with our poor health and our insufficient superannuation, hanging about like a noose around the national neck.

Well I hope I am troublesome. There are days when I long for the utter freedom of being considered a feisty old lady – clearly visible again by pure virtue of the fact that I am a nuisance.

In the meantime I am trying to discover the virtues of invisibility – if only it meant you could get into the movies for free.