The eve of the Big 4-0
It’s here. The big 4-0. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be a forty-year-old woman. I have to admit I’m just a little nervous.
I suppose on this anniversary of my birth that it's time to come to some realizations about my life. Isn't that what forty-year-old people do? They come to realizations. At thirty-nine, I could still live my life without ever using such a word. At forty I'll probably use words like that all the time.
Well that and “regularity”.
To tell you the truth, I'm a little afraid to go to sleep tonight. I mean, I've always wondered how people get to be who they are and how it is they come to love some of the things they love.
For instance, whenever I see a little old lady with puffy blue hair and bright pink lips dressed in turquoise polyester pants with tan panty hose and little white tennis shoes, I've always tried to figure out when that happened. At what point did she decide blue hair was the way to go? Was it when she turned forty???
So, if I go to sleep tonight, will I wake up tomorrow with an overwhelming urge to dye it the shade of a faded Easter egg???
Will I get up in the morning and rush to the nearest grocery store to buy some of those little white tennis shoes? (Which is apparently the only place that sells such things.) Haven't you always wondered who buys shoes in the grocery store? I’m terrified that it's forty-year-old women.
Will I type "discount polyester pants manufacturer" in the Google search engine tomorrow? Will I even remember what Google means?
Will I turn off the air conditioning and throw on a sweater, despite the fact that it’s nearly eighty-five outside?
Will I cancel a lunch date because I can’t miss my “stories”?
When I drive myself to the store, will I scoot my seat up so far that I have to actually look through the steering wheel to see the road? Will I find the sound of my left blinker such a toe tapper that I decide to leave it on for thirty miles? Maybe I’m turning, maybe I’m humming along to what I think is a new Latin hit.
I just don’t know.
What I do know is that while I'm out shopping for sweaters with stitched kitty cats all over them, it’s likely some of that realization I mentioned earlier will hit me between the eyes.
I'll probably realize that I will never be a doo-wop girl for AC/DC. I'll never be swept off my feet by Jon Bon Jovi and I will never wear a black 'pleather' bikini (unless it's in the before picture of my Extreme Makeover).
And I guess as long as I’m coming to all these realizations, I may begin to accept that there isn’t much chance I’m going to be one of Forbes Richest People.
Bummer.
But if I’m honest with myself, I will also realize that I've learned a lot in these forty years.
At forty, I’ve learned that it's ok to be happy, while at twenty I was pretty sure I was put on this earth to be a dramatic, tortured soul.
At forty I finally understand that being a woman is more about what you have to contribute than it is about what you have to sacrifice. And that true beauty is found in the reflection of who you are rather than how much black eye liner you wear.
Ok. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I won't wake up craving prunes.
I think I'll stay awake all night though... just in case
I suppose on this anniversary of my birth that it's time to come to some realizations about my life. Isn't that what forty-year-old people do? They come to realizations. At thirty-nine, I could still live my life without ever using such a word. At forty I'll probably use words like that all the time.
Well that and “regularity”.
To tell you the truth, I'm a little afraid to go to sleep tonight. I mean, I've always wondered how people get to be who they are and how it is they come to love some of the things they love.
For instance, whenever I see a little old lady with puffy blue hair and bright pink lips dressed in turquoise polyester pants with tan panty hose and little white tennis shoes, I've always tried to figure out when that happened. At what point did she decide blue hair was the way to go? Was it when she turned forty???
So, if I go to sleep tonight, will I wake up tomorrow with an overwhelming urge to dye it the shade of a faded Easter egg???
Will I get up in the morning and rush to the nearest grocery store to buy some of those little white tennis shoes? (Which is apparently the only place that sells such things.) Haven't you always wondered who buys shoes in the grocery store? I’m terrified that it's forty-year-old women.
Will I type "discount polyester pants manufacturer" in the Google search engine tomorrow? Will I even remember what Google means?
Will I turn off the air conditioning and throw on a sweater, despite the fact that it’s nearly eighty-five outside?
Will I cancel a lunch date because I can’t miss my “stories”?
When I drive myself to the store, will I scoot my seat up so far that I have to actually look through the steering wheel to see the road? Will I find the sound of my left blinker such a toe tapper that I decide to leave it on for thirty miles? Maybe I’m turning, maybe I’m humming along to what I think is a new Latin hit.
I just don’t know.
What I do know is that while I'm out shopping for sweaters with stitched kitty cats all over them, it’s likely some of that realization I mentioned earlier will hit me between the eyes.
I'll probably realize that I will never be a doo-wop girl for AC/DC. I'll never be swept off my feet by Jon Bon Jovi and I will never wear a black 'pleather' bikini (unless it's in the before picture of my Extreme Makeover).
And I guess as long as I’m coming to all these realizations, I may begin to accept that there isn’t much chance I’m going to be one of Forbes Richest People.
Bummer.
But if I’m honest with myself, I will also realize that I've learned a lot in these forty years.
At forty, I’ve learned that it's ok to be happy, while at twenty I was pretty sure I was put on this earth to be a dramatic, tortured soul.
At forty I finally understand that being a woman is more about what you have to contribute than it is about what you have to sacrifice. And that true beauty is found in the reflection of who you are rather than how much black eye liner you wear.
Ok. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I won't wake up craving prunes.
I think I'll stay awake all night though... just in case
posted by Tyla at 6:39 PM
2 Comments:
Too funny!
But, we can still dream about being swept off our feet by Jon Bon Jovi can't we???
Love & Miss Ya,
Tina & Savannah
my dear,
you are much more beautiful now than twenty-five years ago when you use to dress like a father and pick me up to "Babysit" (sneak out)! And even though we both have learned beauty comes from within... you still got it on the outside too, baby!
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