My Thoughts on Turning 40, as Well as What Others Think of Me

I turned 40 this year.  It wasn’t an age I was particularly excited about, but I accepted it, embraced it and welcomed my new decade with open arms.

With every decade I’ve hit, I always heard the familiar words, “It only gets better.”  In my eyes, 40 is still young.  I still have 25 years left in the work force, a good ten years until menopause and my kids will be living under my roof for another twelve years or so (although if it’s up to my son, he’ll never leave this house).

But no one warned me.  No one warned me about the surprising remarks that would come at me from all directions about being “over the hill” just by having my age advance one year.  No one said anything when I went from 29-30, or 38-39 for that matter.  All of a sudden 40 is just plain old OLD.

It all started when I decided to go back to school last year.  I study with a group of mostly 20-somethings, some in their 30′s.  Last year in the middle of a class that I adored, the professor, who I also adored, pointed me out as the only member of class of his generation.  I didn’t appreciate being pointed out.  Until that point in time, I didn’t even feel that different to my classmates.  Yes, I was the only one with kids, and that made me feel separate…but not older.  Yes, I lived in a house in the suburbs, while all of them lived in one of the 5 boroughs of NYC, but that didn’t make me feel old either.  I was just in another stage of life.  But when the professor pointed me out, I felt old.  This semester, I am certainly not the oldest in my class, but whenever the professor brings up a topic that I can relate to because of my age, I look around and sense the age difference  amongst my classmates again.  Compared to them, I may truly be over the hill.  Last week, when discussing an issue relating to family and finance, the professor asked everyone to raise their hands in class if they were married.  Very few of us did.  The number of hands with children was much fewer.  I now feel my age when I enter class, especially with the knowledge that my professor is only a few years older than me.

I remember when I was a young woman in my 20s, working in NYC for women around the age of 40, I looked at them and thought they were so mature.  Here I am – the same age – and I don’t feel so mature.  I run after my children on the playground.  I play Wii.  I eat macaroni and cheese (well, I really try not to).  I watch “Home Alone.”  I ride roller coasters in amusement parks.  I get excited by chapter books.  With my kids, of course, but I am more like a big kid sometimes than a 40-year-old woman.

Of course, there are daily reminders that I’m not a young woman anymore:

1. I have to die my hair more often.  The gray hair kicks in every 4-6 weeks and I can’t hide it for long.  I have to pay good money to have my brown locks colored and spend 1-1/2 hours of my time in a beauty salon when I’d much rather be spending my time elsewhere.

2. I can’t eat the way I used to.  No more size six for me, rather my waist size keeps going up and I’m not eating any differently than I ever did.   I have to watch what I put into my mouth, and I have to exercise three times a week.

3. I have lines on my forehead. I get zits on my face. My skin doesn’t have that young, glowing look that it used to have.  I’m not sure how old I look, but I sure don’t feel old.

4. During my last check-up, my doctor suggested I take Vitamin D tablets to protect my bones.  No one ever has advised me to take vitamins before, except when I was pregnant.  Obviously, my body is changing and I need to start taking precautions for what could come down the road.

5. Whenever I’m filling out a form with questions that require personal details including my age, I have to click on the 40-45 segment, I’m no longer 25-39 or 30-39, I’m 40+.

There are reminders all over the place.

The funny thing is that as a 40-year-old, I feel more inspired than ever.  I’ve also never been able to accomplish as much as I have this past year.  I can juggle several things at once more successfully than anyone I know.  When I have to do something, I don’t think about it very long.  I work, I study, I volunteer and I’m a very involved mother.  Maybe it’s because I’m more mature, like the women I once worked for, but my level of efficiency has multiplied since turning 40.

And now my kids are ages 6 & 7.  They are no longer little tots.  I was a mere 33 when I gave birth to my first child.  I was young.  I spent much of my 30s changing diapers and cleaning food off the floor.  I used to sit in meetings leaking milk until I finally gave in to my mommy urges and left my job to stay home.  For me, the 30s was about my children.  It wasn’t about me.

Now, I truly believe that the 40s are about me.  It’s time to get my groove back.  There is no time to waste.  I am not looking forward to turning 50 in 10 years, but I’ll sure have a decade to talk about when I do.