Turning 40 for anyone of you who’ve already arrived, is a real mixture of celebration, and then an odd feeling that I should be more upset that I’m leaving my 30’s behind than I’m yet to feel.
You see I’ve always had the image of this fabulous lady I worked with back at Sportsgirl when I was about 17, and she was just so glamorous and cooler than any of us teenage girls, that I could tell she had something that we did not.
She said to me as clear as if it were yesterday, “don’t ever fear turning 40 Amber, it’s the start of the best years of your life!” But what about getting wrinkles I thought, from the base of my shallow little twit mind?
“You truly know who you are by the time you get there, and you know exactly who you want to spend time with. You don’t even end up having sex with people you don’t want to. Or, let’s say, you don’t look back with regret, because you’ve finally worked out what, and who turns you on.”
Ok, a little too much information for the 17-year-old girl I once was. The girl that hadn’t yet decided if she even wanted to have sex just yet, but I clung to the belief that maybe she was right.
Maybe all the trials and tribulations – (the morons, the disasters) leading up to that age, were all about arriving eventually at a place that finally felt like home. Finally, in every way that symbolic home was decorated the way you wanted it to be. Not a lava lamp, or fake fur rug in sight.
And then as I pondered yet again the other day about what a major milestone this day was going to be, I realized that I am healthier physically, and emotionally than I have ever been at any other point in my life. So if those mini axe wounds either side of my mouth have to be there because I laughed my head off for 40 years, then stiff &^%&.
As I sweat my 40 year old butt off on that cross trainer at Next Gen because I am now fuelled with a little more fear that my bum might drop a millimeter or so more, then bring it on. Who cares what gets me on that cross trainer for the first time in my life, as long as I’m on the flipping thing.
Perhaps knowing that I should look after myself health wise more now, is actually a bit of a blessing, because let me give you the tip, for at least 30 of those years I’ve been thrashing the hell out of it, because I guess, I felt I can. “I’m young, I’ll bounce back”, I thought.
Of course I realize down the road that there will be reminders that I’m now of an age that doctors feel I should have more check ups, and maybe that will annoy me at times. I understand that I might get invitations to certain activities that I am not ready to enjoy. But even if those ladies playing Bridge do think I’d make a good player, I will politely tell them “all in good time.”
My attitude really is, would I want to go back to being the girl that was turning 30, who felt that wearing a sequined boob tube to my party was ‘fun’? No, I would not.
Would I still want to be thinking I enjoyed managing bands and living with a nosy, pain in the butt flat mate? No, I sure don’t.
I have never been in a more happy place in my life so I just don’t see why I should mourn. So I say, “goodbye dearest 30’s, I will think of you often, but it’s time to move on because I have a wonderful place to go.”