Turning 40 - It’s All About the Journey

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Are You Turning 40 and Looking for a Profound Life Change?

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I am 40 and not afraid to admit it.

It must come as a huge shock that I am the big 4-0. I know, I know, I look 30 or at a stretch 35. Must be the extra-virgin olive oil diet I’ve been on since birth. And hardly a wrinkle on my soft, supple skin - it’s amazing. Pamela Airbags Anderson says 40 is the new 20 so I’d better remember to take along my ID the next time I go clubbing.

I have a friend, let’s call her Veronica, who has erased two years from her life. She’s 36 but tells people she’s 34, presumbly to make herself more appealing to men and employers. She even lied to a boyfriend about her age but her cover was blown when he stumbled across her passport and saw her date of birth. Damn that passport! Surprise, surprise: he didn’t dump her because she was 36.

Unfortunately we live in an age-obsessed society where there is a halo around 15-year-old malnourished models but lying about one’s age does not magically make the body younger. There’s no turning back the body clock. Reproductive organs do not adjust to the pretend age like computers automatically adjust to daylight savings time. If only.

It’s unfair that women feel pressured to make time stand still. As men become greyer, they’re seen as debonair counts in smoking jackets, whereas women are discarded as haggard witches. Unless you’re Helen Mirren, who looks mighty hot for 62. She’ll still look hot when she turns 63 in July.

As for the theory that women on TV get boned if they pass an expiry date, there are an abundance of vibrant, mature faces on the box to disprove this: Jo Hall, Jennifer Keyte, Tracy Grimshaw, Kim Watkins, Kerri-Anne Kennerley, Liz Hayes, Lisa Wilkinson, Caroline Jones, Kathy Bowlen, Ellen Fanning, Geraldine Doogue, Sonia Kruger, Ann Sanders, Sandra Sultry, the list goes on. Gretel Killeen used to be on TV before she was evicted from the house.

The queen of the age-deniers is Kerri-Anne, the taut-faced Channel Nine morning-show host who’s in her “mid-50s”, or according to one article I read, in her “mid-40s”. All those early starts must make the memory fuzzy. The Age Diary played pin-point the age on the Kennerley and found she was delivered by the stork in 1953, so she’ll be blowing out 55 candles this year. Will her lungs cope? Now, what’s so bad about admitting she’s 55? She’s a stayer in TV world, she scrubs up well with the help of the “work” she’s had done, and she’s at the helm of a show that brings in millions from advertising fat-busting devices. She should stand proud.

One thing I’ve noticed as my years advance is that Hollywood celebs who were much older than me when I was a youngster seem to be a similar age to me now. I’ve got older but they haven’t. Curious. Maybe they just seemed older when I gazed at them on the telly or maybe they’ve wiped off a few years so they’re more attractive to casting directors. And to prolong their shelf life in the industry. Especially for the famous, it’s futile erasing the years because there’s always the chance a school buddy will emerge and helpfully point out their real age.

I know women who despair at turning 40 because of all the self-reflection that comes with it: married vs defacto vs single, with child vs without child, intentionally barren vs unintentionally barren. Take Pamela Anderson’s approach: you’re as young as you feel, or as young as the men who feel you.

I’d much prefer to state my real age and for people to tell me I look younger (go on, I know that you want to) than to say I’m 35 and hear that I look 40. Now, that would be a waste of a fib.

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Suzanne Carbone goes where other reporters fear to tread: the red carpet. She has perfected the art of juggling her notepad with a glass of bubbly and a canape, all the while keeping her finger on the pulse of this pulsating town. Celebs - she has met a few. David Cassidy, from the Partridge Family, once stopped a news conference at the Como Hotel to rave about her dress. She even bumped into Barry Humphries in the women’s powder room at Flemington on Derby Day. Alas, not everyone is on the A-list and not all the bubbly is French. Yes, it’s a tough job but she’s just the someone to do it.  Check out her blog at http://blogs.theage.com.au/limelight/