40 is the new 30 is such bullshit. 30 is 30. 30 will always 30. As 40 will always be 40. Why do we feel the need to create new sayings just to make us feel younger? What is wrong with being who we are?
I admit, turning 40 was the first time I actually was apprehensive about a birthday. I've always loved my birthday. It's my very own national holiday and I celebrate it big. Why not commemorate the day I was brought into this world? Age is only a number and all that. I passed 30 with ease. 35? No problem. 39? Bring it on. But 40. 40. 4-0. It just sounds SO OLD. Especially since this isn't exactly how I'd envisioned my life at 40 when I was younger. I pictured the typical married with 2.5 kids, nice house, white picket fence, blah blah blah. Instead I'm single with a bulldog, renting an apartment in the city and in debt up to my ears. And I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe I'd change that debt thing. But the rest. Not really.
So why was 40 such a big deal? I dunno. And the fact that I was so freaked by it bothered me. "Have a party" is what everyone said. "You have to. You're turning 40." Really? Okay. I guess. Big parties aren't my thing. Especially ones I'm planning. You stress over all the details and then once it happens, you worry if everyone is enjoying themselves. But I soldiered on, trying to plan the perfect 40th birthday party. And hating every minute of it. Luckilly, life intervened and a friend planned her wedding the same day as my party. Minor attempts to reschedule my little shindig didn't work out so I scrapped the whole thing altogether. Thank the lord. I ended up celebrating my birthday my way, spreading it out over the whole Memorial Day weekend. And it was one of the best weekends ever. Really. Friends. Family. Food. Lots of food. A Carvel ice cream cake (thanks Mom!). Drinks. Lots of drinks. Plus my karaoke debut (fueled by alot of those drinks). Good times.
Now it's all over. And I'm just here. And I'm 40. And that's okay. I'm the same me I was at 39. My face didn't fall over night and my body didn't head south. In fact, I find that my attitude is the only thing that's undergone a minor adjustment: I just don't give a shit anymore. In a good way.
Say it loud: I'm 40 and I'm proud!
I admit, turning 40 was the first time I actually was apprehensive about a birthday. I've always loved my birthday. It's my very own national holiday and I celebrate it big. Why not commemorate the day I was brought into this world? Age is only a number and all that. I passed 30 with ease. 35? No problem. 39? Bring it on. But 40. 40. 4-0. It just sounds SO OLD. Especially since this isn't exactly how I'd envisioned my life at 40 when I was younger. I pictured the typical married with 2.5 kids, nice house, white picket fence, blah blah blah. Instead I'm single with a bulldog, renting an apartment in the city and in debt up to my ears. And I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe I'd change that debt thing. But the rest. Not really.
So why was 40 such a big deal? I dunno. And the fact that I was so freaked by it bothered me. "Have a party" is what everyone said. "You have to. You're turning 40." Really? Okay. I guess. Big parties aren't my thing. Especially ones I'm planning. You stress over all the details and then once it happens, you worry if everyone is enjoying themselves. But I soldiered on, trying to plan the perfect 40th birthday party. And hating every minute of it. Luckilly, life intervened and a friend planned her wedding the same day as my party. Minor attempts to reschedule my little shindig didn't work out so I scrapped the whole thing altogether. Thank the lord. I ended up celebrating my birthday my way, spreading it out over the whole Memorial Day weekend. And it was one of the best weekends ever. Really. Friends. Family. Food. Lots of food. A Carvel ice cream cake (thanks Mom!). Drinks. Lots of drinks. Plus my karaoke debut (fueled by alot of those drinks). Good times.
Now it's all over. And I'm just here. And I'm 40. And that's okay. I'm the same me I was at 39. My face didn't fall over night and my body didn't head south. In fact, I find that my attitude is the only thing that's undergone a minor adjustment: I just don't give a shit anymore. In a good way.
Say it loud: I'm 40 and I'm proud!
3 comments:
I still have to wonder if the year of your birth is mistyped on your birth certificate. Are you sure it's supposed to be "1968" and not "1986"?
(Oh wait, you actually REMEMBER 1986...and you showed me the pictures to prove it.)
Your birthday weekend was one of the best weekends I've had in a long time. If turning 40 is going to be anything like it was for you, I can't wait for October!
I'm still bummed that I didn't get to hang for the rest of the evening. Timing sucks. :P But at least I had fun while I was there...anytime I can get liquor in my system before noon is always a productive day. heh
I'm 47 and proud!
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