Dear 40s Club,
I became an official member yesterday, joining most of my friends who have been eagerly waiting for me to be a part of you. I had planned on walking through your welcoming front doors with my head held high, but who knew that my entrance was going to be as inglorious and dishonorable as walking into school detention.
A few days before the Big Day, I felt a tickle in my throat. But since all the celebration was going to be on the weekend, I told my immune system to kick into high gear and "deal" with it. I subbed on Friday, and was more tired than usual at the end of the day. On Saturday, Dear Husband had planned a big day for us. We had a Date Afternoon (another five kiddos-free hours!) going downtown to see the highly acclaimed and Tony Award-winning musical, The Book of Mormon. Then we had dinner with family and BFF's family at a lovely little French bistro. The day ended (very late) with a few hours of prepping for my Chinese class. I got through Sunday with my leukocytes and phagocytes working overtime. Come Monday, they retired and handed their job to my T cells and lymphocytes. And I spent the bulk of my 40th birthday on the couch, like so.
Sort of anti-climatic, wouldn't you say? Good thing we got the celebratin' in before the birthday gal fell apart!
On the way downtown, DH asked me if I felt like I'm 40. Well, yes and no. I used to think--back when I was still in single digits in age--that people in their forties were old as dirt. I thought that once the thirties were over, one is practically a senior citizen. Thankfully, I don't feel that old yet. They keeping saying that 40 is the new 30, and anyone who's 40 will take that--no questions asked.
But the yes part? My body and my brain would like to offer their answers. In just the last year or two, I've noticed slight declines in both areas. Let's start with my 40-year-young body. For one, I've decided that sitting down to shave my legs is, well, er, more comfy. The stiff, achy back that greets me as I wake in the morning has been more and more unforgiving. My eyes inevitably cause a reverse-whiplash when the kiddos shove something in my face and say look, Mommy! And let's just say that painting my toenails is not as easy as it used to be anymore.
Now onto the brain. It is definitely slowing down. I've always been very good with faces and names, numbers and dates. That is no longer a truth since it might take me more than a day to remember a name or a face, and I may or may not miss a digit or five in a telephone number these days. When I am writing and I need that perfect word but cannot think of it to save my own life? I text DH and he tells me so my day can go on again instead of freezing mid-sentence like I have word constipation.
On Saturday, I wanted to wear my new Toms wedges to the musical, as I had just received them as a birthday gift. I remember pining over a classmate's espadrilles when I was in second grade. Well, 32 years later, I got my own first pair. They fit perfectly. They were so comfy out of the box. They made me look tall, dressed up but not too glammy, and I was in love. Until I had to walk around the streets of downtown before the musical. Oh. My. Goodness. My 40-year-young legs were so out of heels-shape. I discovered muscles I didn't know I had because they were in so much pain. But a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do: suck it up cuz it looks good.
During the musical, which was indeed hysterical in an over-the-top way, I found myself "getting" what was funny, oh, about 20 seconds after the audience stopped laughing. No one saw my deer-in-headlights look except for DH who had to lean over and explain what had just happened. A couple of times. And by then I had missed out on the [allotted] time to laugh. And when I did "get it" and laugh at the appropriate times? Wow, that was SO FUNNY!
Which brings me to my agenda as a part of my new club. In my last one, The 30s Club, I built a foundation to be a Mother. I'm not sure what I'll get out of this current one, but I am going in ready to combat those few signs of aging. I am going to bring out-of-shape back into, er, shape. I need to exercise my body and my brain.
People make New Year resolutions to get into shape and exercise. Well, this is not a New Year resolution for me, but a New Decade resolution. Sounds way more momentous, right? I'm putting regular exercise of the body and brain back into my life. Cue downloading exercise/fitness and brain training games apps onto my phone. (Don't judge--unless you're already in my new club.) Because when I look around me and see the peeps that are making my life happy, I know that I want to be there with them for as long as I can, in top brain shape.
Other than this horrible cold that decided to join my birthday party, turning 40 hasn't been bad at all. It probably helps that I'm the last one of my bunch to do so, but I've "turned," no less. And all joking aside, being 40 is just another day in this good life of mine. If I judge admittance into The 40s Club by what I've accomplished in life so far, then I am definitely feeling pretty grateful and blessed.
Maybe even proud and deliriously content.
So, Dear 40s Club, I am glad to finally be here with all my friends as well as DH. I look forward to what you will have in store for me. Yesterday, a friend wished me "wisdom, security, and healing" in the next decade. I'd like nothing more.
(Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go blow my nose.)