|OK, not quite 40. But close enough.|
Last month I turned 39. Or as I like to call it: 40-1. If I’m feeling especially math-y I like to go with 100-61. It’s Common Core Math. Don’t feel badly if you didn’t get it. When I’m feeling sassy, however, I like to say I’ve “begun my approach to Cougar Town.”
Whatever you want to call it, I’m knock knock knocking on 40’s door. Truth be told, though, I’m cool with it. I’m fine being almost 40 and I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine a year from now when I’m actually 40. In fact, if the “I’m 40” birthday celebrations I’ve been to so far are any indication of what it’s going to be like, I am100% on board with being 40!! I recognize that not everyone shares my feelings. For some, turning 40 is painful and even sad. This is a judgement free zone, by the way. So if you need to grab a Kleenex and a glass of wine and you need a moment to lament over the passing of your youth, have at it.
Not everyone believes my “Almost 40 is Fabulous” attitude. Someone recently asked me if I was just trying to resist the cultural trends that are sweeping the nation- well, if you could call Facebook a “nation.” You know what I’m talking about. The near-constant pictures of 40 year old women wearing 19 year old clothing while partying like they are 25? I’m not trying to be judgy here. I love to buy cute tops as Forever 21 and no one appreciates the fabulosity of a margarita quite like I do. But I am in touch with my body enough to know I ONLY buys tops at Forever 21, never pants. And I’ve had enough “learning moments” to know I party in the privacy of my own home or maybe with a friend or two in their home- if I can sleep over.
Truthfully, though, I am A-OK with turning 40. In fact the only 40 I’m afraid of is this one…
|I will admit that the beer cozy is super cute, though!|
And the only reason that 40 scares me is because if I drank that I’d pee like 45 times and I’d be so bloated I wouldn’t be able to button my pants for at least a week.
So I’m embracing my almost-40-ness wholeheartedly. At least I’m embracing my INTERNAL almost-40-ness. When it comes to the stuff that really matters, I’m fairly happy with what my almost-40-self looks like. Sure, my grip on sanity it tenuous at best some days. The constant push-pull, drive, wait, plan and lecture of motherhood and marriage can definitely take its toll on a girl. But I definitely feel more together and solid than I have at any other phase of my life. Simply put, I may be crazy but I’m learning to embrace my crazy. I’ve come to accept that some of my quirks and flaws are just part of my blueprint- for better or for worse. I’ve spent way too many years fighting those things and being ashamed of them; so now it’s time to simply own and accept them. Fix what I can and learn to live with the rest, right?
So if I’m feeling pretty darn skippy about my almost-40-insides, how am I feeling about my almost-40-outsides? Well, I’d say the jury’s still out on that one. Let’s evaluate:
1. I’m definitely OK with the fact that a weekend away is more about sleeping naked without answering awkward questions and just sleeping in, rather than raging parties.
2. I’ve come to accept that sometimes I need a little help to get things, uh, moving.
3. I’m completely comfortable with the fact that I’ve become that person who thinks PDAs should be private.
4. I love the fact that a “Nooner” isn’t always what it used to be
5. I’m even trying to laugh at the secondary effects of aging- things like Rogue Hairs
6. I love the way I look in my bifocals even though I will admit I spent an entire Saturday night without my glasses just to look prettier. By the way, anyone who was with me last Saturday? You looked fantastic… I think…?
7. And I couldn’t be happier about the fact that I’m looking older, but not quite as old as the rest of you!
Toss in an acceptance of saggy boobs, crows feet, by bladder’s failure to thrive diagnosis and the sleep lines that are still present on my chest at 12:00 each afternoon and I’d say I am fully embracing all that comes with being almost-40. One might go so far as to say I’m a happy, hairy, saggy, diaper-wearing Cougar. And truth be told, none of these things were a surprise. There is no shortage of women oversharing the effects of aging.
However, women of a certain age, you have failed me in one area. For a group of women who so freely share your laughter-induced dribbling, own your Spanx-laden thighs and are proud of every way Victoria and her Secrets lift your secrets, you neglected to share one very important piece of the aging process…
You didn’t bother to tell me that my ass would sag and my crack is getting longer by the minute!!
Saggy boobs are one thing, ladies. But to have my crack expand to immeasurable lengths? You really should’ve warned a girl!
As a woman who was blessed with twice a back and no rack, I guess I should have assumed gravity would kick in at some point. The amount of “lifting” bras available should have given me a clue, right? But it never occurred to me that what happens in the front will also happen in the back!
Where are the discussion boards for this phenomenon? I’ve spent my entire life learning to accept my ba-donk-a-donk. And by “accept” I mean “dress accordingly” and “feel grateful that I met a man who likes big butts- and he can not lie.” So don’t you think that if my life’s mission has been acceptance that Mother Nature should throw me a freaking bone? I expected my ass to get wrinkly and I am frighteningly OK with the idea of it sprouting random hairs and I’ve even accepted that it will continue to get wider. But longer? Really?
It’s only a matter of time until the back of my thighs are completely taken over by my butt cheeks! They’re already seeming shorter than they were in my 20’s! It’s because my ass is dropping lower and lower! It’s bad enough I have cankles! Soon I’m just going to have an ass and feet only!!
So while I might be looking forward to some parts of turning 40: growing more confident in who I am, embracing my strengths while learning to accept my weaknesses and recognizing that I’ve lived a life that has earned laugh lines and crows feet from smiling so much, I find absolutely nothing redeeming about the fact that my ass is about to make up 50% of my height!
Mother Nature is one cruel lady!
That’s just my normal.