I was halfway into the sea to have a swim on the weekend when I glanced down and realised my bathing costume was doing strange things.
Further inspection revealed it was inside out: the seams were exposed, the bra cups were struggling to support, the tag was flapping in the breeze.
I glanced around but my neighbours were engrossed in other activities and not the slightest bit interested in a middle-aged woman having a wardrobe malfunction.
I plunged into the water, took stock and realised I wasn't particularly concerned about what people thought anyway, as long as I got my swim.
My faux pas was the result of extreme haste. I had a little window of opportunity to cool down in the water while a friend looked after the motel - and I wasn't about to waste a second.
It was with great hilarity that I related this tale to my sister later.
"That is the great thing about getting older," she said.
"No-one looks at you any more and you don't really care anyway; how you present to the world is not so important."
She then expanded on her thesis: "I've got a bit of fuzz starting to grow on my chin but neither [husband] Tony nor I can see it unless we have our glasses on, so I don't worry too much. We can't see all the blemishes so they don't exist!"
I had to agree. It is only when I put my specs on that I can see the imperfections, so I only use glasses when I need to read, write, thread a needle or extract a splinter.
What the rest of the world sees is its problem.
It reminded me of the attitude of my other brother-in-law, who lets my eldest sister cut his hair.
A few years ago, when I commented that it was a bit of a rough job, he responded: "I don't really care. I don't have to look at it."
Now I understand his disdain for appearances; I have obviously entered the I don't-really-care-that-much zone, and what a sense of freedom it brings.
I started to think about some of the other benefits of ageing. Various websites provided some light-hearted reflections such as your ears are hairier than your head, you sing along to elevator music, the things you buy now won't wear out, there's nothing left to learn the hard way and you don't feel guilty about eating dinner at 4pm.
Then there are the health issues: your back goes out more than you do, your joints are more accurate than the weather channel, your investment in health insurance is finally paying off and your arms are almost too short to read the newspaper.
A little more extreme examples are: kidnappers ignore you, no-one expects you to run into a burning building, and in a hostage situation, you are likely to be released first.
But I think the greatest thing is the feeling of calm.
The mid-life crisis is behind me and there is a certain acceptance that "this is as good as it gets" and "let's make the most of it".
I'm also looking forward to working less, holidaying more, taking the race out of living and spending lots more time with loved ones.
You see, growing older does have a genuine upside.
But I haven't reached the slow lane yet. And until I do, I'll have to make sure I spend that extra 30 seconds arranging my swimming costume correctly.
After all, a certain amount of decorum is still required, no matter what age.
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