And rather than get into it and sound all defensive (and thereby assure her she was correct), I just said, "Oh. Maybe. I don't know." And I proceeded to sulk a bit about it. Am I having a mid-life crisis and not seeing it? I did buy a fun little red car. I dropped my stable career and became a massage therapist. I started running marathons. (Okay, PARTS of marathons.)
After doing a little kitchen dancing therapy, I just want to say this really loudly to the anonymous Interwebs: I AM ACTUALLY EXCITED ABOUT TURNING 40. As far as I'm concerned, it is too far away. (Next summer.) You couldn't pay me to be in my 20s again. I take better care of myself now physically and emotionally, I have surrounded myself with amazing people, and every day I have such gratitude for my life.
In my 20s, I was so busy figuring things out and making mistakes and worrying about what people thought of me. In my 30s, I have been raising children, restarting my career, building a home, nurturing my surroundings. 40s? It's time for fun! Things are more established, rooted, growing. It's time for pleasure. I plan to eat delicious foods, travel and write. I plan to play my banjo and have pink hair and take dance lessons. I plan to care not one little shit about whether or not I should wear that bikini and just fucking wear it. I might even get a tattoo, if I can ever figure out what I'd want to have permanently marked on my body.
If the number 40 freaks you out, give it a name. It's just a name. How old are you? I'm Matilda. How old are you? Emmentaler cheese. The point is, the number is irrelevant. How old am I? Happy.