Exactly two months ago I woke up as a
forty-year-old woman
I'm
middle aged
4 decades old
the big 4-0
in my prime
smack dab in between my 30s and my 50s
Perhaps I'm going to suffer a
mid-life crisis
And become a
cougar
And start wearing
push-up bras and mini-skirts and stilettos
Or maybe it's a period of
reflection
self renewal
goal setting
Or perhaps, just maybe,
I'm the same person I have always been
 |
| They say Forty is Fabulous...let's see how that goes! |
There is a build up of anticipation surrounding any of the "big" birthdays. Every one loves a nice big round number. But I've seen anticipation turn to panic or anxiety when the Year of 29 has been crossed.
I've been told by people with one of the "big" birthdays approaching that the number doesn't bother them.
"Oh, 30 is no big deal!"
"Hey, what's 40? Not a big deal!"
"Yeah, nothing wrong with turning 50. It's not a big deal at all."
And I believe them. The first time they tell me. Not so much the third or fourth time. It's kind of hard to give credence to someone telling me it's not a big deal when they are clearly making it a big deal.
And I give props to those fantastic people who think numbers don't bother them. You know the ones that spend the 364 days leading up to their Big Day promoting the woo-hoo party that is going to make history? And, after a few drinks, it seems as though they've been stricken with a sledge hammer of reality and can be seen blubbering in the corner surrounded by friends trying to comfort them with promises of "you're only as old as you feel". And, given the fact they are clearly distressed and feeling old, I'm not sure if that is a very reassuring phrase...
The cliches of growing older are abundant, right? Our wrinkles are a measure of our laughter. Our stretch marks are a beauty mark from carrying our beloved children. Our streaks of gray indicate our wisdom and experience. Let's embrace these changes, we hear, because we've EARNED it.
And I'm all for embracing something I've earned, but, come on....how did I earn the distinguished honour of being addressed as a "ma'am" by the grocery store clerk?
Seriously, in my mind, I honestly and totally feel like a 25-year- old version of myself.
I still turn up the radio and rock out to my favourite songs when I'm driving- although it appears that most of my favourite songs have seemed to mistakenly been placed on a "classic" rock station-
I still stay up late at night reading scary books -but now I have to be a responsible grown up and make sure there's nothing hiding in my kids' closets before I can securely tuck all the blankets around my entire body to create a barrier of safety-
And I can still pull an all-nighter when there's a deadline looming and I need those extra hours to get my writing done- but, for some reason, my rebound isn't quite the same and one all-nighter can lead to three days of cranky and short-tempered interactions with my family-
I'm still the high scorer when it comes to gaming- seriously, I will kick your ass any time, any where...just hand me a game boy and Tetris and I'm in the zone-
Clearly, with these remarkable feats alone, middle-age has not grabbed a hold of my soul. So explain to me why the 20 something grocery store clerk had the audacity to call me a "ma'am" when I was cashing out with my bran flakes, probiotics yogurt and calcium vitamins?
"Would you like me to carry these out to your car," he asked with a dimpled smile.
And, for one moment, I was certain he was flirting with me. I was probably going to have to let him down gently and refuse to give him my number after he got the groceries in the trunk. But then he finished his sentence.
"Ma'am".
Ma'am? My god...he wasn't flirting with me at all...he thought I was so frail in my middle age that I didn't have the strength to carry out my own groceries.
"No, I can handle it," I told him with a roll of my eyes.
And, fine, maybe I had to pull out my hot water bottle to soothe my aching back muscles when I got home, but it was worth it. This "ma'am" walked out of the store with vitality, pride, and, quite possibly, a slightly hunched back. I mean, come on, those groceries were heavy....
Post originally published on my The Forty Years blog on March 5, 2015. Trying to get organized here, people, and get all my stories on the same page....
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