So today I turn 40. How does that feel? Well, I don’t feel 40. I always imagined that by the time I reached this fateful age I’d have it all figured out. By 40 I’d be a “grown up”, whatever that is. Step a little closer, …just between you and me…I still don’t have a clue. I still struggle to be a good daughter and hope my Dad will be proud of me. Maybe some day I’ll make him happy, though that’s unlikely. I’m still unsure of myself in my work. I still hope people will like me. I want to make a good first impression, but I often fail and say the wrong thing. I put my foot in my mouth and sound like a dope. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
But the thing about 40 is, now none of that matters so much. At 14, I spent hours with the curling iron and the blow dryer. Now I leave the house with my hair a mess. I often forget my lipstick. I wear crazy hand knitted socks in public, with pride. My husband makes me laugh, and I laugh loudly. Sometimes too loud, with the occasional snort. I listen to the oldies station happily and I often sing along. If I had children, I would embarrass them in public.
They say 40 is the new 30, whatever that means. I’m just glad to have another day, able to continue on, trying to make sense of it all.