I’ve recently discovered that I like being forty. I’d like it a lot less if I still couldn’t get carded now and again, but that is besides the point.
For those of you who are not forty, I’ve prepared a few words of wisdom for you. Hopefully you will go gracefully to the top of that hill and not kicking, screaming, whining and crying like I did.
A good thing about being 40 is that you start to develop good sense. You know what looks good on you. You (hopefully) start to realize that change isn’t necessarily a bad thing and perhaps it might be time to let go of that high school hairdo.
A really good thing about being 40 is that filter drops just a wee bit and you’re no longer able to sit by and let people be incredibly stupid without commenting on it. If your boss makes a stupid decision, you don’t feel the need to back her up, but can say with confidence, “that wasn’t the best direction to go in, but I’d like to hear your suggestions on how we are going to get back on course.”
You can say crazy stuff when you’re 40 and people think you’re wise.
You laugh whenever you walk past that retail store, Forever 21. You know it would be a curse.
You can stare at hot, young studs and make them uncomfortable.
You no longer feel the need to conform to anyone’s idea of how you should be, feel, look, act.
You can let go of the past.
Bad things about being 40 start with your upcoming 25 year high school reunion.
Your little friend, Miss Scarlett, decides she can now visit any ole time she wants and stay as long as she wants.
You start to squint at the exact moment when squinting will leave it’s footprints.
You mispronounce common subculture references and say things like “Lindsay Logan”, “Hillary Gruff” and “Colin Merrill”. You think Jessica Simpson is an animated character. It never occurs to you that there are people who don’t know Bewitched was ever a television show.
You realize the newest voters weren’t born yet when you turned 21.
Your body starts making new sounds.
You start keeping a mental list of the foods that give you gas and/or heartburn.
You realize that you only have so much time.
That’s a cheery note to end on isn’t it? Stew and chew on it and I’m going to call my mom and see if there was a mistake on my birth certificate…