Why It's Fun Being 40-something

I really don’t know what all the fuss is about aging.

Let me tell you something. There are loads of advantages to aging. As I’m creeping into my 40’s (I’m a proud 43 year old), I revel in the changes going on.

When you look at them the way I do, you will too. Guaranteed.

Here are a few surprises that I’ve encountered.

At unexpected times, your hair will start to fall out. This happened after childbirth, as if there wasn’t enough already going on. And it happened this summer. To keep me feeling cooler, maybe? Unclear. But don’t fret. The whiskers that start growing under your chin will more than likely compensate for any hair loss from your head.

No need to worry about those pesky whiskers either. You can’t see that well from up close anymore, so you’ll hardly notice.

You buy a magnifying mirror to handle  them once and for all, but quickly realize there is absolutely no reason to look at yourself that closely. Ever. It finds a happy place under the unused sanitary napkins that are collecting dust in the cabinet.

That’s not to say that you don’t still get your period. Oh. You do. That little gift from Heaven gets to bless your moods for several more years. But you’ve since found neater ways of dealing with it that don’t require ultra-absorbent nappies with wings. Unless you find the incontinence issues that started around childbirth are still leaving you…um…damp. Then you’ll want to pull those abnormally thin pads right out, in lieu of “depending” on other undergarments that make Victoria’s Secret look like fig leaves. Oh wait! They are fig leaves. Never mind.

Speaking of which, you become a bit prudish when seeing gratuitous exposed flesh. Yes, VS Angels, I’m pointing a finger at you! I mean, what’s all the fuss about them anyway? I could have donned those wings when I was their age too. OK. Maybe not. As you can see, the memory gets a bit hazy too.

This is a blessing in disguise. Do you really want to remember that time you tripped going up the stairs to get your Oscar? I mean, let’s be realistic here! Some things are better left in the past.

Did you know they say that long after you stop growing, hair, nails, ears, and feet keep growing anyway? That means more shoes for you. Woo hoo!  I’d say the list should include hips, bust, and belly too. That way you can throw in some belts, bras, and, well, all clothing really. So more shopping for you too. YES!

There’s not much you can do with the big ears though. And nose hairs. Wait. That wasn’t on the list. TMI.

My seven-year-old daughter keeps drawing images of me with lines going down from my nose to the sides of my mouth. (For those of you who trouble with names, these are the nasolabial folds. Do not be afraid. Read on.) Thankfully, I got rid of my mustache when I was in my twenties. What kind of pictures would she have drawn then? And the ones she draws where I’m kissing my husband? That would have been interesting. Like modern-day nuptials in California. As for the lines? The minute I read that they represent fulfillment of your life purpose, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I’m deeply, deeply fulfilled. And so are you. Ooh! And you…And dang girl, you are like the most fulfilled human being ever. Hats off!

You are not even a little bit close to retirement. But you are suddenly up for new adventures and major career shifts. People like to call this a mid-life crisis. I like to call it a wake up call. It’s a great time to discover your vision for the road less traveled.  You may be happy you took that direction. As long as it wasn’t because you forgot where you were going. Or maybe you did and were better off for it.

Some people admit they were a bit lost in their teens, twenties, and even thirties but found themselves in their forties and fifties. I say who cares when it happens, as long as it does. And if it doesn’t happen at all? I say: better luck next time.

The truth is, we only worry about our aging features when that ole high school reunion arrives. Or your friends see you for the first time in a cazillion years.

Again. No worries. If you haven’t seen them in this long, who cares what they think? You won’t see them again for the next cazillion years anyway. By then you’ll be an 80-something-year-old bombshell. (Remember? The bust keeps growing.)

Overall, it has been a smooth transition. Even though some areas drag and droop a bit more (gravity, my frenemy); and some areas wrinkle up like a slug with salt on its back (do NOT try this!); and those increasing blond highlights in my hair look mysteriously bleached and wiry in some places; I’d still rather experience everything that brought me here than to have missed out.

It was worth living fully every step of the way.

P.S. It also helps that my husband is four years younger than I am. Shhhh…. Don’t tell anyone!