40 Signs I’m Turning 40
Today’s my birthday, my 40th birthday.
While I may have a few mixed feelings about the big 4-0, mostly I’m totally excited about it. Really, it’s giving me the biggest laugh! At first, I thought this may be because I am in some sort of denial. I mean, 40 is old, right? So, I did some research on “the Google,” and apparently 40 is the new 20. I’m completely dismissing the fact that these articles were likely written by 40-year-olds, like me. And I’m embracing the theory that if I read it online, it must be true.
So, here is my online contribution to turning 40. Feel free to grab your reading glasses if you need them. I’ll wait.
Okay. So, that reflex that old people get with menus, cell phones, and medicine bottles…OMG! It started happening to me. So random. What the hell is that all about?
Just in case it’s my eyesight, I bought my first pair of readers a few months ago. And to see if I could pull off the look, I took a cute little selfie. It was definitely more dorky than sexy. But if I take my glasses off, pull the phone in close, and squint just right…SEXY!
I know the ages of beautiful women who are older than me, like Jen Aniston (45) and Sandra Bullock (50). This is my way of telling myself, I got this.
I’ve tried at least five major skin care lines in the last 24 months in search of five fewer years. Whoever referred to this as “tossing pennies into the fountain of youth” is sorely mistaken. I’m laying out $20’s like sheets to the wind.
I’m no longer the youngest mom on the playground. I’m not pushing a stroller. I’m not pushing a kid on the swing set. Yeah, that’s me over there resting on the bench. I’m pushing 40.
I started referring to 20-somethings as “kids.” WTH!?!?!? My mom does that. So, this can’t be right.
When I sit down, I unconsciously sigh a little.
When I stand up, I unconsciously moan a little.
I am finally completely comfortable with who I really am…which means I’m halfway to that magical age when I can say whatever the hell pops into my head, and I’m too old for anyone to say a damn thing about it. Nice.
At the grocery store, the 60-year-old cashier calls me “dear,” and the 20-year-old sacker calls me “ma’am.” But they both still flirt with me, so…we’ll call it even.
When I was 10, I hated 9:00 bedtimes. Now on the rare occasion I get to bed by 9:00, I’m all like, Woot! Woot! But, I’m tired, so shhhhhh…
When I started driving, gas was $0.99/gallon. And people were tripping that the signs would have to hold three digits if it got over $1.00…you know, the kind of signs that must be manually flipped over to the next number.
I’ve played Pac-Man and Asteroids with a joy stick on an Atari on our black and white TV. That’s about as old-school as it gets, unless we’re talking about jacks and marbles. And yeah, I’m not THAT old.
Typing class was required in junior high and high school. Thumbs were for the space bar, and texting wasn’t even a word yet. (And yes, I walked to school, uphill both ways…in the snow.)
As a teenager, I wrote simple programs in DOS on our Commodore 64, which not only makes me 40, but also a total pocket-protector-tape-on-my-readers nerd. Dang! I should totally add “computer programmer” to my resume. I’m almost too old for anyone to argue with me about it anyway.
Growing up in my house, Friday night was family night…which meant staying up late (til 10pm…wooooo hooo!) to watch Dallas and Falcon Crest, eat popcorn, and have a Coke.
As a kid, I once pleaded with everyone in the house to be quiet as I rushed to set up my tape recorder in front of the TV to record the theme song to Cheers…on cassette. Hey, sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name…
I’ve checked an answering machine, carried a pager, and stretched a coiled phone cord out to my room to talk to a boy.
I grew up with the Cosby’s, the Brady’s, and the Seaver’s.
My first celeb crush was Scott Baio. Charles in Charge, baby!
I love 80’s music!!! Like totally. To the max. For sure.
Well, and the 90’s, too. As in, I’ve been to a Debbie Gibson concert. (Shake Your Love, Lost In Your Eyes…oh yeah, I still know all the words to these and hundreds more. Hot, huh?…Crap. Am I too old to say hot?)
Sometimes the phrase, “20 years ago” comes out of my mouth. And I’m like, Ooops…I’m not old enough to say that. But then, “20 years ago,” I was like 20!
At some point in my 20’s, I had “The Rachel” haircut. Yeah, as in “20 years ago.” (But, Jen Aniston looks good, y’all. And, she’s like 5 years older than me. So, I got this.)
Before that, in junior high, I had the poof bangs. And to my step-mother’s dismay, I went through a can of Aqua-Net hairspray a week.
Sometimes, when I glance in the mirror, I swear I just saw my mother. (I love you, mom. Lookin’ good!)
I only get ID’d by people older than me (because they get it). Thank you. And yes, I will totally laugh and play along like you really believe I’m in my 20’s. And, did I mention, you don’t look a day over 29, you beautiful thing!
I workout because it makes me feel good, not to keep up with the cover models. C’mon, I’m like twice their age now…well, except when I’m buying alcohol, of course. Then, I am happy to laugh along and provide ID.
When filling out information online, I’ve gotta keep scrolling…and scrolling……and freakin’ scrolling to get to 1974. Really? Some 20-year-old kid probably designed it that way. Just wait.
I need a nap.
I’ve basically got one foot in Saturday night, and the other in retirement.
When I dance, my daughter yells, “You’re burning my eyes!” (Hmmmm, on second thought that could just be that I’m such a white girl.)
I’ve stopped thinking about having more babies. And not just because mine mock me.
I now have crow’s feet. And wirey grey hairs. And stretch marks from having babies…who mock me.
As I periodically sort through my closet for clothes to donate, there’s a new criteria now. Too big, too small…and I’m way too old to wear that anymore.
All my friends have been turning 40 on Facebook for months now. And we look good y’all! (Just leave your readers off, and don’t be expanding the photos. We’re sexy, huh?)
I still say “yes, mam” and “no, sir” because that’s how I was raised. Some things should never get old. Like good manners and respect.
I now have secrets worth keeping, and stories worth sharing.
I have two beautiful children who are worth every stretch mark, every grey hair, and every wrinkle.
I’ve enjoyed an amazing 40 years of life and love. Even when I get it all wrong, life is good. Really good.