Yep, that’s me at 40.
Standing in sub-zero temperatures. With a giant snowbank behind me.
On November 13.
Here are some thoughts I’ve been gathering as I thought about turning 40. In no particular order…
I’m fine about turning 40.
I was an absolute mess in my 20s and managed to pull it together this decade and have been doing well. I’ve accomplished a lot of stuff. There’s a lot more I want to do but progress is steady. Still waiting to cash that first Rowling-esque paycheck but…
I have gray hairs and it’s okay.
Okay, no, I’m not 100% on board with the gray hair..
The first few were cute. “Aww, look at my little gray hairs…” But they can stop now.
The lines on my face are pretty cool though.
They mean I’ve laughed a lot, which means I had a lot of reasons to laugh, and that’s pretty cool.
Sort of.
See #3. The little ones around my eyes are charming enough but the angry line between my eyes could settle down a bit.
I’m stopping at Instagram.
That’s it. I’m done. I’ve tried Snapchat and I don’t like it. As someone who obsessively re-checks everything she posts, Snapchat gives me anxiety. Everything just disappears? No, thanks.
No way that kid is 21.
This comes out of my mouth whenever I see a child at the bar throwing beers back.
My back hurts.
I’m not sure why.
My shoulder is crunchy.
I know why.
My knee is clicking.
That’s new.
I’ve gotten really good at being alone.
It’s a good feeling to know you’re okay with being alone. Not just okay but thriving. Content.
…Probably too good.
Good luck even getting to these walls, let alone over them. There’s a moat and no drawbridge and tiny medieval men will be heaving swords and flaming arrows at you.
I’m buying a house.
YEAH.
I’M BUYING A HOUSE
RIGHT?
40 is the new 20!
(Spoilers: No, it’s not)
I was really dumb in my 20s.
I don’t want 40 to be the new 20 because I was really dumb in my 20s.
I’m slightly less dumb now.
Like, I’m seriously considering flying to Vegas this weekend for one night.
I’m tired.
All the time.
Holy crap. I’m 40.
Doing things is way better than having stuff.
MAMMOGRAMS.
A decade goes really fast.
Ferris Bueller was right.
But also kind of slow.
When I think about the person I was ten years ago, the priorities I had, the dumb shit I was doing…that seems like forever ago.
I don’t feel like a grown up.
I should really start eating better.
Go out AFTER the concert? LOLLLLLLL.
Christmas music on November 1st should be banned.
I’m going to run for office on this platform and this platform alone and I’ll win.
Jurassic Park is 26 years old.
And a big part of me is still the 12-year-old girl in the film who has a massive crush on Sam Neill.
I’m really glad social media didn’t exist in my 20s.
See #16.
It’s going to be really weird to say “forty”-something when someone asks my age.
I have to get my teeth cleaned.
Seriously, it’s been at least a year and that’s not like me.
I still can’t look at Tequila Rose.
I was 19 the first and last time I drank (a lot of) it and just the sight of it still makes me gag.
I wear coats now.
Is this what being an adult it?
And socks.
I loathe socks. All I want to do is be a barefoot hippie, carefree and at one with the earth, but I choose to live in Western New York and that just isn’t practical year round. Not if I want to keep my toes. So now I wear socks when it’s cold. My feet are very happy with me now.
I have peers with kids in college.
I have a cat who shares my pillow with me.
My mailman hates me.
I’m SO bad at checking my mailbox and I don’t feel like this is going to change as I limp on into my 40s. It’s 99% junk mail and I just…forget sometimes.
I still don’t know if I’m a Millennial or Gen X.
I’m either a geriatric Millennial or an infant Gen-Xer. Nobody seems to be able to settle this debate for me.
Nothing makes me feel older than reading a list of current Top 40 songs.
What is a Post Malone?
Wow, I made it through a whole post without mentioning Fleetwood Mac!
Whoops. OH WELL.