I’m fucking forty years old and I have an attitude, damn it! And I’m still a bit snarky and smart assy. Although, I’d like to think of myself as “funny”. So, if my words are offensive, suck it up.
And, please am I supposed to feel old? Or am I to assume that something magical and wonderful is to happen now? Am I going to enter the Zone of (unexplainable) Perpetual Bliss? (Or maybe I need to be medicated for that and that’s an entirely different post)
Am I going to walk with a certain mature and respectful manner or better yet, will there be elegant defiance in my demeanor? Will I walk in the room and, with a certain quiet confidence, I will demand “ALL EYES ON ME, bitches”! Will I own “it”? And will my confidence come off as striking or as bitchy or as, “old and jaded”?
Is forty even an age worth discussing?
WISE IS WHAT WISE REMEMBERS.
Will I wake up wiser or (hopefully not) more forgetful than ever to a point I’ll believe I’m still thirty-nine? Will each day that passes matter more now? or will I be too old and care less about anything and everything and continue my aimless ways? Will I let go of my grudges or simply finally settle things MY way one way or another and kick some ass, sock someone here and there and finally “let it go”? (It may get ugly, but I’m forty, so it’s okay)
THESE KIDS THESE DAYS
Will I complain more about “today’s youth” or better yet will today’s fucked-up youth complain about (old) me? Am I to hate teenagers? I actually think some are cute, some that walk around holding hands–all in love and some riding the skateboards with their giant headphones. I mean they’re kind of goofy all covered with zits but you know, they’re just young whippersnappers. sigh.
(When you sigh at zit-ish teenagers it’s a horrible sign you’re aging. I’ll stop sighing now !)
Teenagers–annoying but these days I know plenty of thirtysomethings more harmful to society than some youngsters. So I think I won’t discriminate and give every annoying person of any age a good amount of attitude.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FRIENDS OF ALL AGES, Elvis is dead.
I heard some friends talking about “I remember when Elvis died…”, “when Elvis died I was…”
Then a little bit of me died too because I thought, “oh, shit. I am old.” :(
Other people I know were born in the 80s. Oh dear, the 80s?!
Shut up. I’m old.
Hehe no I’m not.
( I got over that quickly. Thank goodness I recover easily for some things. phew!)
WHEN YOU BLOSSOM you encourage the whole world to blossom with you.
Have I flourished? I mean I’ve done this and done that too, right? I’ve been around here and there and with this one and that one. That’s a ton of experience, right? I mean the less-than-forty crowd haven’t reached my highly-qualified-in-life level. I’m completely ahead of them all and I’m confident. I’m totally sure of myself.
So when some asshole honks at me in traffic, knowing very well I can’t move an inch, I’m so fucking confident and mature and CALM, I’m going to ignore him and (quietly) continue listening to NPR. Or is my ultra-confident superhero-forty-ness going to kick in and get out of my silver mommy car and beautifully strut my kick-ass self to him, grab him by his neck and tell him to “shut the fuck up, buddy. I’m fucking hot and forty so show a little respect to your elders, quit making a damn fool of yourself and stop that maddening honking, okay !!?”, then go back to my car swinging my curvy hips left,right, left right and wait in traffic once more?
Hmmm. There’s a thought. A long run-on one.
And if I’m at a party and I mention that I dig Adam12 or cheesy, bloody gore movies, (b and c movies) I should be okay with simply dismissing the snarky stares, right?! Of course I’m right! ’cause I’m forty and I’m cool like that. I can talk about whatever the hell I want ’cause I’m confident that your snarky remarks don’t matter. Screw you, young, ignorant, cocky bastard, It’s all about Malloy and swamp thing!
(Okay maybe not swamp thing)
THE NEW NEW ME (again):
Is this the time I’m going to start craving to reinvent myself? So the last 20 years trying to reinvent myself was great practice and now at forty, I shall master it, right?!
I hope I master spelling too.
THE STARS AND THE FLOWERS.
Oh and now is the much-awaited time when I won’t be afraid to say NO (or yes, yes, yes!)? has the time come that I can enjoy the simple things? The free things? The sun and the flowers and the stars up above. Or just simply enjoy waking up and all the hours (that I’m still alive)? I mean, is this necessary? Should not everyone else be thankful for having me around? Me, the wise one. Hell, I’m forty. You’re welcome.
THE (ungrateful) PEERS.
Will I feel unconditional respect for my friends’ achievements or have a greater tolerance and patience for their unreachable dreams?
Will I reach a sense of purpose in my family’s life? Will they see how much I mean to them? Or will I be more understanding that they are far too short-sided to realize otherwise? Hee.
ACCEPT THE GODDESS IN YOU.
Does Level Forty empower me with valuable useful spirituality? Or am I too smart and confident and move away from that all together? Or better yet, will everyone realize “if you accept me (goddess of forty) you have accepted all good things in your life”. Word.
FOR ME? Thank you. You should have.
Will I get wiser and accept that it is much better to receive than to give and that the old saying “it’s better to give than to receive” is so totally overrated and overused?
WHAT THE OLD PEOPLE DO…
Will I get to do a little more gardening in my spare time? Or do I give a fuck if my grass is dead or neon green? We’re in southern California, should we even have lawns?
Will I upgrade from wine to a grown up cocktail? Or, will will I lose my mind and start drinking wine coolers because I let myself go?
What do the not-so-old people do?
Will all the texting bother me or will I just text better shorter shortcuts no one will understand and I become cooler than those annoying kids?
NOTE TO SELF and you too: So if age is an attitude, then tomorrow I’m turning bitchy, bastards! But I have the right to turn snarky and cute and pretty and obnoxious, another time as I please.
One more NOTE TO SELF: When someone tells you, “blah blah blah…when you turn forty you’ll take the time to reflect on your life and on your past experiences and this may give you a sense of purpose in life, etc…”
That’s just bullshsit. SERIOUSLY. It’s bullshit. Fuck it. Just live well. work on what you love and what you love will work for you. You may not get rich doing it, but everyday is a learning experience – a good one, a bad one, and if you’re unlucky, a mediocre one, too.
Every day is the “good old days”. And that’s it. Nothing.
I turned forty last month. I’ve had my share of extreme disappointments, a ton of tears and laughter and losses and gains and hardships (financially, and emotionally and everything in between) just like many of my friends and family. It’s just life. And and age and experience help you deal.
I’ve lost special people in my life, there have been deaths and breakups and happy–beautiful times and horrible times. And I’d say that all of my experiences (just like yours) have been so moving and significant and I’ve felt as if I was flying high or on top of the world or lonely and alone or lower than the dog shit on your shoe. (Yes, on your shoe. Not on mine)
sStill, time passes and we move on and we move forward and all days and hours are meaningful just like me (at forty) and just like you.
so nothing. that’s it. Just talking to talk. Maybe.
laura, goddess of forty. seriously. goddess. accept it. or you can call me your majesty too.