As I plug in “39” for one of the last times on my elliptical, a tear drops on the machine. It’s a few days until my fortieth birthday, and I’m sorry, but it’s a little depressing.
I am sure my memory is getting a little foggy, but I faintly remember at my Mom’s fortieth birthday party, everyone was playing shuffleboard, had those breathing tubes in their noses, and their private nurses feeding them. Back then, forty seemed so old, and now, I am going to be fucking forty!!!
“Best is yet to come”, “You look great for forty”, none of that shit helps. I don’t want to complain, except a lot to my husband, because it’s fun, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if I stopped complaining. But when you turn forty, it is common to take stock of your life, to question if you are where you want to be.
Did I make all the right decisions? Could I have been more than I am at this moment? Should I have gone into Olivier Martinez apartment instead of going home in that taxi. Sorry, that was the movie Unfaithful with Diane Lane, not me.
But it’s natural to ask these things. It doesn’t mean you aren’t grateful for what you have. In minute twenty-eight of my elliptical program, this is what I know. I love my family, my husband still gives me the sex nudge, my kids are great and not yet in rehab, I have great friends, I laugh every day, my ass and legs are two separate entities, and my new career is going well. My thirty-nine years of decisions and experiences in life thus far have led me to all of this. So yes, I would rather be thirty-nine, but what is the alternative?
I will be near a lot of cliffs on my birthday, and I have decided I will just use them for the views. Forty isn’t going to be so bad, and I guess there is an upside. I can start writing articles, Fabulous at Forty, Sex After Forty, Peeing After Forty.
What the F??k Is Going On With The Skin Under My Eyes After Forty? That one is coming out soon!