40 — better than 31

I turned 40 a couple of weeks ago, and I’ll admit to having a mini midlife crisis in the preceding weeks. I didn’t buy a Mustang or get a facelift, but I did indulge in a little too much introspection and a few too many tears.

I’m not entirely sure why this birthday hit me hard; I’ve never been bothered by age, and have always felt younger than the calendar dictated. Everyone seems to have that one Dreadful Birthday, whether it’s their 30th or 35th or 50th. I guess 40 was mine.

And then, in the midst of a celebratory-champagne-fuelled-self-indulgent-weep, I suddenly realized how lucky I am to be 40. It was a much-needed wake up call.

My mum died when she was 31; that sounded so old when I was a kid and now I know it’s so young. Since I turned 31 I’ve experienced, learned and accomplished so much. My mum didn’t have that chance.

So no more weepy birthdays for me. From now on I’ll be grateful for every extra candle on the cake — and you will never catch me getting botox or a facelift. You may, on the other hand, catch me buying a Mustang.

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1 Comment(s)

  1. great post. My mom lived to 70 and that wasn;t long enough. I miss her so much. Thanks for being you.


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