Black balloons and birthday greetings

Another few years older . . . .and still getting carded. . . only when the clerk feels sorry for me.  Husband ALWAYS gets carded. . . still. . .  from 2009 . . . .

 If you haven't guessed already by the title of this article, I've had a birthday recently.

     The big 4-0 came and went earlier this month, and it honestly didn't phase me.

     My daughter, who is ten going on twenty, thought I'd be really upset about turning 40.  To her, 40 is really . . . well, old.  I admit feeling the same way when I was her age.  Heck, when I was in my twenties, 30 was old.

     Oddly enough, the closer you get to that big number with a zero, the less old it seems.  Oh sure. You know you aren't getting any younger, but it suddenly doesn' t matter if you're turning 40 or 50 or 60.  You still feel young.

     In relative terms, you feel young.

     At 40, I don't feel as young as I did at 30 or 20.  My husband and I ruefully acknowledge that we can no longer stay awake long enough to watch two videos in one evening, even if the videos start at 7 p.m. 

     At 40, I'm not as active as I was at 30 or 20 years of age.  I regretfully acknowledge that the scale reflects that too, but again tell myself there are other things that are more important.

     In some ways, I'm healthier than I was at 20 and 30 years of age.  I eat better because there are fewer stops to the fast food places.  At-home cooking really is better for you. 

     I'm definitely getting a little smarter than I was at the age of 20 and 30.  Experience can be a harsh critic at times, but it is the best teacher in some instances.

     The older we get, the more we realize how smart our parents really were.  My own kids might disagree with that, but they aren't really old enough to understand this concept yet.

     Both of my children had fun with me turning 40.  I put up with a lot of tag-team jokes at my expense.  My elder child would say, "Gee mom, time sure flies!"  The youngest would then chime in with, "And then BOOM! You're FORTY!" And both would laugh uproariously.

     My new-found hagdom had the comments flying like crazy.  Suddenly, within one day of turning 40, my hair was sprouting gray like it never had before. I was losing teeth.  Wrinkles were appearing on my face faster than I could rub them out with moisturizer.  Every other joint in my body, aside from my knees, was cracking loudly whenever I moved.

     At least, that's how it seemed to the kids.

     To me, 40 is just a number.  Just as sizes 8, 12, 18, and 20 are just numbers.  It's who you are inside that really counts.  Everybody knows that.

     But it's an unavoidable fact of life that all of us will age.  Some will look their age as the years pass.  Some will weather the decades extremely well and look youthful, while others will be a little too well-worn around the edges.

     Either way, age is just a number.  If you aren't enjoying life, it's easy to get bogged down with getting old, or feeling old.  Everyone has days like that.  I feel old today, one might say, while browsing the matronly looking swimsuits on the rack, and enviously eyeing the youthful bikinis on the mannequin.  Or perhaps someone wishes for the luxuriant head of hair that was a source of pride back in their youthful twenties, as they instead gaze at a bald pate in the mirror.

     I admit I wasn't eager to be serenaded with the "Happy Birthday" song, simply because I feel I am a little too old for that sort of thing.  Inevitably the refrain begins, "How o-old are you. . ."

     Turning 40 isn't so bad.  It's a good place in life.  I've lived a little, learned a lot, and somehow found a niche between experience and what there is yet to learn. 

     I'm old enough to not be carded when I buy beer, though sometimes a clerk flatters me by asking for my license. I suspect this is done randomly though, and since I am the fiftieth customer that day, it's my turn to show a driver's license. 

     I'm old enough to know better, but still young enough to think about trying.

     I'm old enough to decide if what I do is worth the regret I might feel later on.

     I'm old enough to tell other people my opinion and not be dismissed immediately because I'm "too young to understand." But I'm also old enough that some might not want to listen, because I'm not young enough to understand.  I'm not quite old enough to get away with  saying what I really want simply because "I'm old."  I have a few more decades to go before that happens.  Maybe 30 more years. 

     Whatever age you'll be in 2009, don't let black balloons and the smoke from the candles cloud your life.  Just change the battery in the smoke detector, pop the balloons if need be or just open the door and set them free.   Gray hair is temporary if you have a good stylist or can use a bottle of Clairol.  Age is just a number.  There are more important things in life to worry about. 

     You'll survive.  

     If nothing else, you can always tell people you're 39.  Nobody's counting.