I’m turning 40 next month. I suppose the idea of bidding final farewell to my thirties ought to furrow my brow a little, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because I’ve had 39 years and 11 months to prepare for it. Maybe it’s because I survived my husband’s 40th freak-out earlier this year. Or maybe it’s because 40 finally feels like I’m coming into my own.
Forty is a lot of things to a lot of people, but to me, 40 is:
- Knowing (and really loving) grocery store music.
- Having a doctor/dentist/CPA/boss who is younger than you.
- The inability to recognize a single VMA nominee.
- Saying things like, “Kids today … ” and actually meaning it.
- Finding new moles and hairs that weren’t there yesterday. [read more…]