Normally I get excited for my birthday. I drop specific gift ideas to all my friends and celebrate it for a week. But not this year. Why? Because I turned 40. I hate 40. I simply do not like the number and all that it implies. While 40 is a milestone so to speak, it is not one that I am feeling particularly proud of and here is why.
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When did I become such high maintenance? Suddenly I need monthly visits to the nail salon, quarterly visits to hair salon, and semiannual visits to the doctor. This is what 40 is doing to me. Going to the nail salon used to be fun. It was spa day for hands and feet. Now it’s work. The OCD girl in me loves the fact that my nails are all uniform and now she demands this be done monthly. The 40 year old girl is jumping on this bandwagon now too and just keeps screaming maintenance. |
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My makeup routine went from powder, eye shadow and lip gloss to face primer, eye primer, foundation, powder, eye liner, mascara, long wear lip stick…you get the picture. I literally have a 5 shelf mini organizer to keep up with all of it. And my porcelain skin has turned on me. I have had to add a skin care regiment as well. I hate having all this extra work.
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I went from seeing my hair gal a few times a year to having a standing appointment. Suddenly my lustrous dark hair has all these fine white, yes I said white, baby hairs that require a constant vigil and hair dye. Sidebar - I have RA and my meds made my hair fall out and it came back in white. While not completely 40s fault, I am blaming her anyway. Now I have heavy blonde highlights to cover and conceal the nasty little white hairs pillaging my head.
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The doctor now has a new list of tests that are appropriate for me to have now that I am 40. Bring on the boob smashing! And if my OBGYN asks me one more time about babies I may smack him. This also goes for my well meaning friends who don’t seem to understand that this chick wants zero babies. I have lots of fur and feather babies that make me very happy. |
I long for a simpler time. A time before 40. I loathe the number and all its preconceived notions. I have decided that from this point forward I will 35 and holding. Why 35? Because it is a strong number. Not too young and certainly not too old. It has a certain air of wisdom about it. It says I am still fun but also responsible. So take that 40 with all your high maintenance and shame. I refuse to accept you. You are nothing to me. I banish thee to deeps of hell where you belong.
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