When I saw the movie “This is 40″ I wondered if everyone is as freaked by turning 40 as Leslie Mann’s character who was so horrified she couldn’t even let anyone including her kids say she was 40; she just kept emphatically insisting she was 38. Is this relatable?
Well I’m 46 and I have no trouble announcing it to anyone who asks or even doesn’t ask. I’ve never felt better. I’ve done a lot, I’ve seen a lot, I’ve felt a lot and I’m finally in acceptance of who I am.
I work out because I love to sweat, because I want to be healthy for my kids and because working out is God’s mood stabilizer. I work out because I want to be stronger and live longer but not because I’m desperate to lose five pounds.
In fact, fuck five pounds.
I’ve finally accepted that I have a bigger butt but it doesn’t define me like it did in high school and for too many years beyond – years where if I was naked with a man I would do a ridiculous sideways saunter out of a room to avoid giving a straight on look at the ass. These days, it’s no longer a liability, just part of who I am – my distinctive mark. I can finally own my flaws.
Does this mean that I embrace every wrinkle on my face, let my hair go gray and spend my time in comfortable Aerosoles shoes? Oh hellz no (I’m open to change). I love Botox and get it any chance I can afford it. I had laser lipo on the back of my thighs but only because it was offered to me for free. I try to take care of my skin and body because inside I still feel 25 and I’d prefer if my outside reflected a tiny bit of my inner feisty attitude.
I want to wear pink boots, go rollerskating and listen to Carly Rae Jepson or Tupac or some sort of acoustic vagina music really loud in the car. I got my belly button pierced at 30 and my first tattoo last year. Sometimes I still shop at Forever 21 despite the fact that I passed 21 twenty-five years ago.
Okay, my back gets jacked up when I try to do a cartwheel on the front lawn, and all of a sudden I can’t go on the teacup ride at Disneyland without getting nauseous and feeling a migraine coming on and to be totally honest I’d prefer being home on the couch with reality TV and a comfy throw than out at a party or God forbid nightclub any day of the week.
But the bottom line is I’m fine with 46. Actually I love 46. And I truly believe that age doesn’t need to be a stigma. If we all just proudly said our age and showed our real face I think the world would be a more comfortable place. So as an experiment, I asked my over 40 friends far and wide if they would send me their picture and let me post it with their real age. I couldn’t believe how many wanted in – so many I had to split it into two posts and even have another one for over 50!
Let’s rock our forties!
Want more from me on Babble? Try This Is 40 Part Two
Follow me on Twitter, Please! Come on! Give a sistah a little love!
Check out my personal blog Baby On Bored
Like my Facebook page to see what I’m up to every hour.