Brille en Pille

In Cape Town, there’s a saying that sneaks up on you somewhere between your last thought of “I’m still young” and your first pair of Clicks reading glasses: “Brille en Pille.” Short, punchy, and lekker accurate.

This phrase isn’t uttered with cruelty, far from it. It’s delivered with a wink, a nod, and a shared understanding that ageing is inevitable, and being nostalgic for youth is, well… a waste of time. It’s simply a constant in your orbit… cousin’s WhatsApp groups, high school reunion chats, and all those spaces where you expect to be lolled with. So, we acknowledge it together: moving forward, life will be centred around dodgy eyesight and even dodgier joints… and that’s okay.

One day, you’re reading menus in restaurants without a second thought. The next, you’re holding the menu like it’s a treasure map you need to decode. You tilt your head, squint, and blame the lighting. Eventually, you surrender, take out your phone, snap a pic, zoom in on the offending thing muttering something about “just needing better light,” as if the issue isn’t biological.

Then come the glasses. Not just one pair, oh no, that would be far too simple. There’s the pair by the bed, the pair in the kitchen, the pair in the car, and the mysteriously elusive pair that was just here a moment ago… and usually ends up perched on your head... Ai ja. They morph from mere accessories into absolute necessities.

But “Brille” is only half the story.

“Pille” enters quietly. At first, it’s a vitamin here, a supplement there… something for joints, something for sleep, something recommended by a friend who swears it changed their life. Before you know it, your daily lineup resembles a small pharmacy. Morning pills, evening pills, pills with food, pills without. You develop a system, and suddenly your bathroom looks like a drug lab and there’s no longer space for your 10-step glow routine. And comparing pill counts? Yoh, that’s next level. I’m on 3, how about you?

And you soon realise that in this chapter of your life, that wicked sense of humour is going to save you endless grief. So, you embrace the little inconveniences and those slightly embarrassing moments with sass and a solid “fuck it” attitude. You laugh at yourself as you make your way through the blur and the fuzzy noise… saying “Huh?” more often than “Hey.”

Because alongside the glasses and pills comes something else… perspective. You learn to laugh when you realise you’re already wearing the glasses you’ve been searching for. You swap notes with friends about the latest “miracle” health trends, fully aware that half the joy is in the conversation.

And ja, there’s freedom in accepting: “This is my reality now and it’s actually pretty cool.” I’m still here when others aren’t. My convo skills are stronger than the new gens. I’ve got a bit of cash to spare. I’m asleep by 9pm. I can cook from scratch. And I’ve been flirting for half a century ... so ja, I’m a pro.

So yes, Brille en Pille may be our reality but so is resilience, adaptability, and a well-earned sense of humour. We’re downright lagbol.

And if you’re going to carry reading glasses in every room and a pill organiser in your bag, you might as well do it with sass and a whole lot of savvy.

I’m embracing what’s coming and I’m not going quietly or gracefully.

Who’s with me?