If you scroll down to the bottom of my blog you’ll see the line “If forty’s the new thirty, someone forgot to tell my thighs.” (and my uterus, but that’s another story.) True, there was a time before penicillin, and indoor plumbing, and cosmetic surgery – when being in your forties meant you were officially OLD, while now, being in your forties means you go to spin class, wear short shorts, and read Twilight with impunity. But being in your forties isn’t all roses, prune juice, and junk mail from AARP. There’s a dark side to being forty something. Dark. Dark. Dark.
1. You think everyone is 20-something, because they all look so young. They you realize they are thirty-something, and you only think they’re 20-something because you can’t believe that you look 20 years older than a 20-someone does. But you do.
2. Your neck starts to do that thing where you pinch it, and it stays pinched for a good few seconds.
3. Bat wings.
4. You are invisible to the very people you used to resent noticing you: construction workers, sanitation men, truck drivers. This results in several near-death traffic accidents monthly, when said workmen nearly mow you down, you’re so invisible to them.
5, You learn that crows’ feet and pimples can co-exist.
6. You look at fashion magazines and realize that not one single thing in there is age-appropriate. For you, fashion is turtlenecks and slacks. Only they’re not fashionable.
7. You look in the mirror when you’re at the gym and realize you have turned into the middle aged woman you used to see at the gym and condescendingly think “good for her” about.
8. You eat the same amount, you exercise the same amount, you even weigh the same, but your body does. not. look. the. same.
9. When you tell a story about your past, you say “That must have been ten years ago!” And then you realize, it was 20 years ago. Or 25. Like, every single time you tell a story.
10. You realize you will soon be 50 something. And it’s not a pretty prospect.
And for those of you who want me to age gracefully, who think the forties are “the best ever.” Yeah, right. It’s the beginning of the end, people. And by the end, I mean when you don’t even have to pinch your neck to have it stay that way, when you no longer give a crap what’s in the fashion magazines, and when you’re so old, everyone is invisible to you.
Actually, it sounds pretty good to me.