Well, I survived another birthday. Do you remember when they were things to be excited about? You'd go to sleep knowing the next day was going to be wondrous and amazing. I don't really mind birthdays so much. It's just that they bring me closer to that big number that is glaring at me from around the corner. The one that is jeering and making inappropriate gestures. Yes, Forty, I'm talking about you! Mind you, I still have two years left, but Forty and I have already started a dialogue.
At first it was bitter and full of denial. All of my firsts are behind me. No more first kisses, dates, proms, weddings. No more babies. Really, no more special days. Do you realize that my child is closer to being young and in love than me? All those teeny bopper romances are geared more toward her than me. I am too old to be the leading lady in a romance (unless I looked like Diane Lane). I am too old to be cute. And (if I must confess) I have always counted on being cute, quirky, and clever. Do those words bring to mind forty? Didn't think so. Suddenly, my body is in revolt. I am like a can of biscuit dough whose seal has been broken. I have always been curvy, but droopy? Whose body is this? This summer Caroline helped me reenact the show What Not to Wear by going through my closet. We gave away everything that I would never fit into again and, if by some miracle I did shrink, would look ridiculous on me. Goodbye baby doll dresses and mini skirts (I really don't miss them). My overalls on the other hand....
But lately, Forty and I have come to a truce. I see my friends and co workers who are younger than me navigating dating, marriage, impending parenthood, and it makes me tried. I am happy to be settled. I don't have to read between the lines of everything Rob says. I just ask him if he meant to come across as an an ass and he lets me know. I can happily spend a Saturday watching a movie at home. No smoke, no overly loud music, and (thank God!) no small talk. I can laugh at myself (after all I just compared myself to biscuit dough). I know that the only thing that is life or death is, well, death. Crummy times pass. I've lived the years to see this. I get to be wise "elder woman" at work (this still freaks me out). Although, my advice is more in the form of "shit happens" than Confucius type sayings.
Yeah, I'd like to be a MILF., but honestly, even at the height of my youth, I was never sexy.
But last night, before we turned out the lights for bed, Rob turned to me and said "you know what? You're cute." Hah, take that Forty!