This is 40

Gather around friends, let’s get real. Why didn’t someone warn me about the things that happen after turning 40? OK, OK, someone probably did. But when you are the midst of your youth and think that life will never sneak up on you…. you apparently don’t pay attention. Why, why didn’t I pay attention? Is that a sign of youth? Ugh (insert eyeroll). Sure, I expected things like gray hair and little wrinkles here and there, awe… isn’t that cute? 

I was so naive.But this stuff? This is ridiculous! Pull up a chair ladies, let’s chat.

– These hands. Who do they belong to and why are they attached to my arms? When did they begin to look…well… old? Wrinkly? Spotty?

– Gone are the days when I can inhale a pizza with a side of ice cream. All while losing weight. Now if I even side eye a bag of chips, I gain six pounds.

– The hair on my chin makes my 90s overplucked eyebrows super jelly (as the kids no longer say). Why can I grow a beard fuller than a hipster 25-year-old male, but I cannot get these darn eyebrows to fill in to save my soul?

– Everything hurts. Not like “Woah, I was out partying all night.” More like “I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. and am waking up but can’t move” kind of hurt.

– Music. It all makes me feel like I am ‘in da club’. It gives me a headache and makes me mean.

– Teenagers are automatically uneducated in whatever they are talking about and you want them off your lawn. Don’t even get me started on the amount of air conditioning that is being wasted when people open the door!

– Meet you for dinner? Can I wear my pajamas? No? OK, I will be there. Note to self, I will totally be cancelling later.

– What is going on with my elbow skin? Has it always been so stretchy? Did I gain extra skin? I have questions!

– My doctor is younger than me. Is that even safe?

– The inability to recognize anyone on MTV anymore. Why is it even called MTV. Where are the videos? 

– I am no longer Nickie. I am (insert kid’s name here) Mom. Or worse yet, the dreaded “Ma’am.”

– I now shop in the section that is filled with labels like “anti-aging” (too late!). Which by the way must also equate to “charge me anything you want make-up company, because I will gladly pay it.  Just bring back my youthful appearance.”

– Stay up all night, wake up after an hour fresh as a daisy? Um, no.  More like, sleep for 11 hours, wake up and need an obscene amount of caffeine and still look like you were hit with some sort of truck. Speaking of, my daughter asked me the other day if I slept in my makeup. No ma’am. That’s just my bags under my eyes. Thank you very little.

– Speaking of sleep, why does it feel like the most inner layer of hell when I sleep? Do minions sneak into my house and turn on the heat? Jerks!

However, here is what you should know – I wouldn’t trade it for being younger. You heard that correctly. Even though I could list a million and one ways that growing older can be a figurative and literal pain, it has also proven to be amazing.

In my 20s, I sought acceptance. 

In my 30s, I obtained acceptance.

In my 40s, I didn’t care! I accepted me!

It is freeing. There is something about hitting a certain age where you stop looking around you, stop comparing yourself to others, and just start living. I don’t know if it is the fear that life is passing you by. I am not sure if you realize how short life is.  Or if you just come to an age where you realize that everyone else is just as messed up and therefore cannot be an authority or judge over how screwed up you are.

I have long been a people pleaser. It is in my blood to care what others think about me. I ache when I think I have upset someone. I replay conversations in my head, wondering how big of an idiot I have made of myself. I worry that I am presenting myself in the right light as a woman, as a Christian, as a mother, as anything….am I doing OK based on someone else’s standards?

 Until recently. In the last few years I have stopped looking around and just started being me. As authentic as I can be. I continue to try my best to be a good person and feel like the rest will just shake out in the end. I am a mess more often than not, but I have quit beating myself up about it (most of the time). 

Ladies, lovely lovely ladies, hear me say: getting older can really be the pits in some areas. But hold on tight. Hopefully you will get to a point where you can look at yourself in the mirror, a reflection you barely recognize from the changes of youth to older age. But you will look at that reflection and say “even though it is different, goodness I am happy. I am comfortable in my own skin.” 

Here’s to our 40s, may they be filled with the kind of fun that makes our younger selves envious….but have us in bed and asleep by 9 p.m.