The Big Four-Ohhhhhh
Well, I never thought I would make it but here it is. It’s Saturday… January 10. If I wake up tomorrow and if nothing cataclysmic happens between now and 4:50 p.m., tomorrow afternoon, I will be exactly 40 years old. Forty…
Ugh!
No, I feel really ambivalent right now. Here I am with four decades under my ever expanding belt and I don’t feel it. Okay, sometimes I feel it, like when it gets super cold and my left knee feels like someone has stabbed me with an icicle or when I sleep on my back and get that wonderfully stiff back that requires soaking in a hot tub to cure but most often, I don’t feel like a forty-year-old.
Is this the secret of aging? Not "feeling" one's age. I mean, I remember when my mom hit 45. I was ten. (It’s great being born two days before your mother’s 35th birthday… it keeps her age in your memory.) Anyway, she seemed like a 45-year-old. But I look at her now and, in spite of her lack of hair and a few more wrinkles, she looks the same to me. Older, shorter, and maybe a little slower but still the same woman. As far as I can tell, anyway. Sure, ideologically she may have changed but she's the same.
When my sister turned 40, that was a big deal. But, she doesn’t look “old” to me, either. She just looks like my sister. Okay, those grey hairs are reappearing faster than she can dye them away but otherwise, she looks good.
And, here's a zinger... when I went out with Charlie, I had to ask how old he was. He told me he was 26. I then asked him how old he thought I was. He said, "no more than 24." Yeah... I've got a good twelve years on the guy and he thinks I'm younger. And yes, I still get carded, every now and then, when I buy a drink. That's always nice, though I think it is more of "standard operating procedure" than any question of my personal maturity.
I guess now that I am here at the big Four-Oh, it doesn’t seem so bad. I’m still the same person--for the most part--I was ten years ago, twenty years ago. Okay, with a few grey hairs sneaking their way in. And the pants are a lot bigger than they were. And the bra, too. But, I am definitely wiser. Ten years ago, I didn’t know as much about history or politics as I do now. I am savvier. I guess that is because of the 2000 election. I now pay attention to what is going on in the world. I have to now because after the last eight years, there is so much that needs to be cleaned up.
I’ve read a lot—many books I am sure my mother would not approve of but I have to be true to me, yes?
My quest for truth continues only now I am more fearless in that pursuit. Who cares if someone thinks I am a blasphemous, liberal, anti-religious heathen? I sure don't. I wouldn't mind list that as my profession on my passport! Yes, I now have a passport. Didn't have that ten years ago.
But, I still want my Star Wars action figures and my Lego bricks. I don’t want to give them up. I don’t think I should have to… right? I did donate a bunch of action figures (about 300) last year just because I needed the space but I kept my favorites.
So, here I am, about to turn 40. Oh well. At least I'm younger than Marilyn Manson. And Brent. Heck, everyone's younger than Brent.
Ugh!
No, I feel really ambivalent right now. Here I am with four decades under my ever expanding belt and I don’t feel it. Okay, sometimes I feel it, like when it gets super cold and my left knee feels like someone has stabbed me with an icicle or when I sleep on my back and get that wonderfully stiff back that requires soaking in a hot tub to cure but most often, I don’t feel like a forty-year-old.
Is this the secret of aging? Not "feeling" one's age. I mean, I remember when my mom hit 45. I was ten. (It’s great being born two days before your mother’s 35th birthday… it keeps her age in your memory.) Anyway, she seemed like a 45-year-old. But I look at her now and, in spite of her lack of hair and a few more wrinkles, she looks the same to me. Older, shorter, and maybe a little slower but still the same woman. As far as I can tell, anyway. Sure, ideologically she may have changed but she's the same.
When my sister turned 40, that was a big deal. But, she doesn’t look “old” to me, either. She just looks like my sister. Okay, those grey hairs are reappearing faster than she can dye them away but otherwise, she looks good.
And, here's a zinger... when I went out with Charlie, I had to ask how old he was. He told me he was 26. I then asked him how old he thought I was. He said, "no more than 24." Yeah... I've got a good twelve years on the guy and he thinks I'm younger. And yes, I still get carded, every now and then, when I buy a drink. That's always nice, though I think it is more of "standard operating procedure" than any question of my personal maturity.
I guess now that I am here at the big Four-Oh, it doesn’t seem so bad. I’m still the same person--for the most part--I was ten years ago, twenty years ago. Okay, with a few grey hairs sneaking their way in. And the pants are a lot bigger than they were. And the bra, too. But, I am definitely wiser. Ten years ago, I didn’t know as much about history or politics as I do now. I am savvier. I guess that is because of the 2000 election. I now pay attention to what is going on in the world. I have to now because after the last eight years, there is so much that needs to be cleaned up.
I’ve read a lot—many books I am sure my mother would not approve of but I have to be true to me, yes?
My quest for truth continues only now I am more fearless in that pursuit. Who cares if someone thinks I am a blasphemous, liberal, anti-religious heathen? I sure don't. I wouldn't mind list that as my profession on my passport! Yes, I now have a passport. Didn't have that ten years ago.
But, I still want my Star Wars action figures and my Lego bricks. I don’t want to give them up. I don’t think I should have to… right? I did donate a bunch of action figures (about 300) last year just because I needed the space but I kept my favorites.
So, here I am, about to turn 40. Oh well. At least I'm younger than Marilyn Manson. And Brent. Heck, everyone's younger than Brent.
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