The way I see it, I’m embracing 40 much like one embraces a stitch. I’m moving around in search of a comfortable position, then I’m breathing deeply and hoping the pain passes.
Today marks exactly four months since I turned the big 4-Oh. Truthfully, not much has changed but I do miss my month-long Fiesta del Forty down in Melbourne.
Turns out, my sense of humour’s gone south too. Last week I was asked my age by a fellow who was probably ten years my senior. Upon hearing I was 40, the generous gent pulled out a quasi-shocked expression, exclaiming “I could have sworn you were in your mid-twenties”. I should have prefaced all this by telling you we were engaging in a business transaction but by that stage the money had changed hands and frankly I could have done without Frank’s off-off-Broadway performance. Ain’t no Oscar coming his way any time soon.
On the upside, I have been awarded a new kind of affection from young folk who somehow now see me as quite the wise old owl. A twenty-something recently sought me out for some career advice and another young friend asked me to help her do a wardrobe “edit”. I actually have no idea what that means but if it involves a lazy afternoon of clothes shopping, I’m onboard.
I’m not quite as amenable to the new weight that won’t shift and the white highlights in my brows and blinkers but hey I understand ageing is a privilege and I do intend to celebrate it in my own little way. If that demands a four month anniversary with a few treats and gifts, then so be it. Let the celebrations begin. This little piggy’s off to market.
What were you doing four months ago? Do you know of anyone else born on 30 December?