“Sure, I
probably don’t look 40 (although my middle brother would argue I look close to
50), but I look at all the younger girls walking around wearing skinny jeans,
ankle boots, tiny tops and no bra, glorifying how cute they look and I’m like, if I
wore that, I’d look like a white trash stripper with a bad boob job – a person
of WalMart. My kid would be mortified … I would look horrific. And
yet, I’m ‘totes jelly.’ Maybe I didn’t take advantage of my 20s and 30s as I
should have … ” ~ Me
I’m turning 40 this year.
F-O-R-T-Y.
As in the big 4-0.
Oh. My.
God.
Turning
40 sucks and anyone who says it doesn’t is full of shit. It is NOT the new 20
or even the new thirty. It’s FORTY.
Everyone
keeps asking me what I want to do to celebrate the big 4-0. No, I don’t want a
party.
Honestly,
I want to hole up in my apartment all weekend and eat stuff that will make me
fat and watch stuff that will make me cry.
I want to
browse through all the photos where I thought I was fat and ugly, and berate
myself for spending most of my life wishing I were skinnier, prettier or just
someone else instead of accepting me as I am - I would have had more energy and
been happier. I don’t want to work out, wear make-up or shower. I want to
stalk my friends’ Facebook pages and see what the under 40 crowd is doing so I
can find something to hate about the twenties and thirties.
Let me
ring in this new decade being a sad, blubbering mess of wrinkles, mom-boobs,
cellulite and tears.
Okay, so,
I don’t have mom-boobs.
And that
may have been a little dramatic but, seriously, I’m not excited about turning
forty. It means I’m almost fifty. I don’t really think I ever considered how I
felt about my age until my friend’s 8-year old daughter, upon finding out
I was 39, announced to an entire restaurant that I was “too old” to hang out
with her daddy and friends - all who were in their mid to late twenties.
In the
last few weeks, I’ve turned to Google for funny anecdotes and blogs on turning
40 to help me adjust. I wanted to find someone else just as frustrated as I am
about getting older, but everyone is so happy - WTF? Why are they happy and
‘zen’? They’ve had spiritual epiphanies and awakenings and shit. I am single,
have acne, cellulite, gray hair - and I lost a molar!
Um ... maybe not really.
And I'm not ready to turn 40. I don’t feel 40 and I don’t act 40.
Wait … Do
I look 40?
Amidst
this panic, I’m not even sure why I’m freaking out about turning 40. Maybe it’s
because I am at a ‘milestone’ age where I’m supposed to have it all together
but I’m still a hot mess. Am I supposed to start doing ’40’ things? Which, I
have no idea what those would be, but if I had to guess, I’d say they aren’t
fun things as I imagine my parents would more than approve of them.
Speaking
of which, the things I use to find fun, seem ridiculous now.
Most of
my friends are way younger than me or they are my age and act way younger. I’m
not interested in going out, dressed like ‘sexy Halloween,’ twerking and
getting smashed every weekend where everyone knows my name – then posting said
shenanigans on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Those things are fun in your
20s and early 30s, but ridiculous in your 40s. I’m not – and never was – about
that life.
And ... I
actually don’t think I can twerk. Seriously, crossfit, which I participate in,
doesn’t prepare you for that and I’d probably throw my ass out. Spartan
stretches and Jane Fondas won’t help either. But I digress.
Or maybe
it’s that I can look back and see that I’ve (selfishly) lived my life doing most
everything I wanted to do, and even though there's more I want to do, I’m not sure where to go from here.
- I made a person! Possibly my biggest (seriously, she’s taller than me) and proudest achievement in my life. I’ll never be able to top it. Ever. Unless I make another person.
- I learned I am not the center of the universe. And that sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same thing - I learned that way before Coldplay wrote that song, and I'm seeing most people either don't understand or are in denial.
- I did a few illustrations for indie comic books. But, unless you were part of that scene – nah, I still wasn’t that good. But I wanted to be – now my art is a hobby.
- I modeled, appearing in FHM, but unless you were part of the MySpace/ModelMayhem/OMP generation, you wouldn’t know that I was kind of an Internet Supermodel. A little.
- I acted onstage – and in movies! But, unless you were part of the indie film scene in NC, you would not know that among the movies I starred in (I can say that), two sound like porn titles. I never did porn, FYI.
- I fell into journalism and writing – all because I lied about being able to write so that I could secure a job and found I loved it. But, unless you are familiar with military pubs, you wouldn’t know that I wrote two columns and many humorous commentaries about topics as they applied to my life. I still keep a blog for it.
- I found my passion in photography. I share it often.
- I’ve been married – and divorced – twice. Almost married a third time. Realized that not all douchebags wear Affliction.
That’s
the short list. I’m not ready to stop adding to the longer version yet. I want
to spend time with my daughter, publish a book or two, not be single forever, make a home, possibly make another person, and travel. I want to see my brothers, nieces
and parents more. I want to take thousands of pictures of life – happening –
with my family and friends. Maybe run another 5K or try another crossfit event – just
because I can. Draw more, read more and
plug in less. I want to make my parents proud. I want to continue to forgive, let go and learn to make better choices ... and ... so ... much ... more ...
I don't want the last two decades back, but I want to press pause until I'm ready to start the next one. I want to feel like there’s still time and that maybe I didn't do this whole thing called 'my life' ass backwards and wrong.
