forty two

Well, it happens to the best of us, aging. Unable to stop life's natural course of action, I now find myself middle-aged. WTF! How did I end up here? When I was a kid growing up in the seventies and eighties middle-aged seemed so old. Made-for-t.v. movies were constantly about mid-life crisis and cheating spouses having said mid-life crisis. My parents turning 40 was a big deal. I remember painting a huge sign that hung from the front porch to mark the occasion. My dad and his old school friends smoking cigars outside and talking 40 year old guy talk, reminiscing about their neighborhood days. Now it is my turn, except that I already passed the 40 year old mark. Now I am 42. Gross. No reason to celebrate much for that occasion. I know, I know, I love birthdays. Well, not this one. This age just seems so common, so old, so mid-life crisis. In fact now that I've hit the forties, I don't feel such a need to be festive for my big days. Forty two is a reminder that the crease between my eyebrows is only getting deeper, along with those "smile lines" around my mouth and oh, what is this pouty stuff by my chin. Shit. Another thing I've been hearing a lot of is peri-menopausal. Well that's it! We can stop right there! I may be 42, but I'll be damned if I'm even going to start thinking about that! Hot flashes, hormone loss, forget it! Mother Nature's cruel torture will just have to be the bridge that I cross when that time comes. I refuse to look at myself as old, aging, or God forbid, peri-menopausal! Yuck! I believe and always have that aging is a natural process which you can welcome and go about it gracefully or you can fight with plastic surgery and too-tight clothing like an O.C. housewife. I intend to borrow from both sides. I have no quarrel with a little botox or restylane to keep lines intact. I do however have a big huge problem with extensive surgery that leaves your face looking like it got stuck in a wind storm. Lips overinflated and eyes pulled back so tight you wonder how one can even see. I also intend to always dress young, not boobs hanging out of my shirt young, just fun clothing like my favorite aqua rubber boots and my Gap jeans. I will never give up my giant hoop earrings or my endless supply of flip-flops. I have however, sadly bid adieu to most of my platform heels since pregnancy wrecked the balls of my feet. Notice though I said, most of my platform heels. There is always at least one pair of shoes that a girl will suffer for because they just look FAB! Another aggravating factor about aging is gray hair. My mother accepted this fate and never colored her beautiful silver, choosing to wear it long and sleek. This will not be me. I am a blonde and there will not be one gray hair on my head until the fat lady sings. My love affair with desserts has also sadly ended. Nothing will kill a 42 year old figure quicker than a cookie! Now aging is not all bad, despite the physical demise and such. Aging allows one to relax just a bit and know that life does take care of itself. Aging allows one to grow wiser, become more secure. When I think about being an insecure teen, following everyone else's example, I hardly recognize myself. Aging has allowed me to lead, to have a voice, and to not be afraid. It is with this wisdom that I will continue to fight this annoying aging battle. I WILL still wear my bikini if it looks good. I will still sunbleach my hair, only wearing it a bit longer to hide that crease. I will suffer through giant heels and running extra miles to rid myself of that fantastic cookie. I will continue to welcome loud music, dancing, and occasional late nights. What I won't do is call myself old or middle-aged. Older, yes. Wiser, I hope so. Dead, not even. Good morning world.