I am not 40 yet. But I am just a few clicky-heel steps away from it.
In fact, I was just adding to the creeping lines around my eyes the other day by whining (over the phone so no one would see the wrinkles but me, because I was (duh) staring into the mirror while I was talking) about how I will be 37 in a couple of weeks. I have this whole thing about identifying myself as being in my mid-30s, and I was wingeing about how 37 is clearly no longer within those bounds. I did the same thing in my late-20s and early 30s, so it is a loop I like to play over and over to my thoroughly bored but resilient grrrlfriends.
So...whining, wrinkles, late-30s. Not so funny. I will gleefully share way too many jokes about boob and hoo-hoo stuff. But gray hair and forehead scrunchies? Oh hell no.
The thing is, I feel happier, healthier, better and (dare I say?) even hotter now -- even on the cusp of (shhht!) 37 -- than I have in years. Maybe even decades. I think it is because, like Oprah says (thanks, Oprah!), I know myself better now. I have been through enough stuff to really face who I am in trauma as well as in bliss, in partnerships and on my own, and in one year and out of another. Some of that comes with the head-shaking reality that I will probably never look anything but pregnant in an empire waist top and that I will always need to buy concealer in bulk. But just like I got OK with sleeping alone in my bed, not having a huge house filled with too many kids and not having bangs (alright, I am still trying to journal that one out), I know I can get OK with that stuff. Oh, and the number of years I've been on the planet, no matter how early, mid or late it is.
Here's what's helping me today: My friends CityMama and BadKitty have started a blog dedicated to the sass and sessiness and whatever-ness of turning 40. And, I kid you not, reading through their posts actually made me want to be in their turning-40 girl gang.
All in good time, I guess. For now, BadKitty's promised me I can get an embroidered jacket and hang with them. I promise in return to bring along all my concealer and hoo-hoo jokes, and leave the empire waist tops and whining at home.
You must check out 40 Whatever right now. I'm probably older and I insist.