On the upside, the party my husband is planning sounds like it’s going to be lots of fun! In an effort to keep me from having to do much, he hired a housekeeper and scheduled a spa appointment for me the day of the big event. Also, we’ve outsourced the food and libations – Taco Taxi, a mobile taco cart catering service (doesn’t that sound like fun??) is doing dinner, Margarita Adventures is providing a margarita machine, and Creative Sweet Shoppe will be baking and decorating a vanilla cake with raspberry filling. I can’t wait!!

Check back next week and I will follow up on the big shin-dig and let you know my thoughts on how it went. And how everything tasted! That is, if my aged old brain can remember all the details. I’ll be 40 by then so you never know.

I rejoined the gym that was so great for me the last time (I NEVER should’ve quit!). I also decided to sign up for their 12 week weight loss program, which came with fitness and nutritional coaching. During the 12 weeks, I lost 21 pounds – which I was THRILLED about. Closing in on 40, I was just hoping to lose 12 pounds – the rest was a huge bonus! My original goal with my fitness/nutrition coach was to be at 25% body fat…which, for me – translated to 146.6 pounds. It also meant losing about 10% body fat. At the end of my 12 weeks, I still had 7 pounds and 3.3% body fat to go to reach my goal. I chose to go to a once per month check in with my coach when the original 12 week program ended. I was hoping to hit my goal by the second check in (2 months later)…knowing that the closer I got to goal, the harder and slower my progress would probably be.

I had my FIRST monthly check in with my trainer last night and, to MY SURPRISE AND EXTREME JOY, I had met and surpassed my initial goals! I beat my weight goal by 0.2 pounds and beat my body fat goal by 0.9% – almost a FULL percent! Of course I had to hug my trainer (even though I was all sweaty after running on the treadmill – HAHA!). So now I have a new goal – I really don’t care about the number on the scale, but I’d like to work towards 22% body fat.

Sorry for the novel, but the point of my story is that I’ll be turning 40 next month and I feel INCREDIBLE! My profile picture was from 2005 when I was maintaining in my goal range. I’m happy to report that I still have that dress and it fits BEAUTIFULLY again! 40 doesn’t seem ‘threatening’ anymore like it did back at the beginning of March! I’m planning to keep going to the gym, being a member of MFP, and rolling through my 40s and into my 50s with fit & fabulous style!!!!!!

Thanks for listening/reading! 

I am forty in a couple of weeks. It is on my mind more and more the closer it gets. My Dad said “they say life begins at 40, it’s a lie”. Thanks Dad, feel much better.

I do not feel I can look forward to this next decade. I feel like I have not acheived much in my life. I cannot have kids, I dread the menopause when my chance is finally over. I am sure by now I should feel confident and happy and secure with myself but I do not. I am older and I care less what others think but it does not make me happy to get older.

I used to be positive about the future but life has worn me down and disappointed me.

My 20′s were wasted on me. I was with the wrong man for me and it is a shame it took me so long to leave. But I turned 30 and lost my job at the same time and it made me wake up and do it. I had more fun in my 30′s it was a rollercoaster. But I met and married the right guy at 39. Basically lived the life I should have had in my 20′s.

Anyway I just feel at my age I should have more, done more live in a better area, just acheived more for myself.
Sorry I think my age is depressing me. 40 is rubbish.
I have a great husband who I love very much but still….

The latest thought as of last weekend to creep in my mind was- as the weather has started to cool down a little- “Man, I have maybe 35-40 Autumn’s left if I’m lucky”. Then there are thoughts of my past that well up. Having had kids in our early 20′s, our lives were all about them. Sometimes I feel as if I was a merely a paycheck at times. An overworked stressed out zombie and I missed out on my 20′s providing for the family, protecting them, teaching them what I thought was right and then working even more.

Is there a bright side to the madness?

I was deployed to Iraq earlier this year with a bunch of kids in their early 20′s. As I watched them spaz over everything from possible enemy contact to fights with their spouses I realized I was just like them when I was in my 20′s- an idiot. Over reacting to the smallest of issues, thinking every little thing might be the end of the world. As I most often calmly dealt with my young soldiers trying to get them to breathe and relax I gained a real appreciation for the transition to 40. I realized that if I took the culmination of the wisdom I have gained up to this point, focused on what I knew to be important and didn’t worry so much about what wasn’t important I would actually get to enjoy life with my less testosteroned, more relaxed, more mature self.

40 has surprisingly turned out be pretty cool. Still young enough to physically do anything (albeit with aches and pains as the cost) and self aware and relaxed enough to actually enjoy and appreciate life. Actually having some idea of what I truly enjoy and what I don’t has it’s pluses also.

Take a deep breathe and jump over the hill.

http://www.flickr.com/people/semperteneo/

I am already dissatisfied with the way I look. Boobs have started their downward spiral, body could stand to lose about 50 lbs., teeth could use a professional whitening treatment or veneers, deep wrinkle in the forhead could use some Botox…the list seems endless. Even more so, I feel like I haven’t accomplished many of the things that I’ve wanted to do for ME.

I feel like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I have a wonderful husband, 3 beautiful daughters, a home…but I have definitely slacked off in what I want for myself. I have never been a good self-motivater or good at tooting my own horn, so I’m not sure exactly where to start. Or maybe I do know where to start but feel overwhelmed. Anyways, good luck and be strong to all the women out there…we all go through it one way or another.

Any advice on how to deal with this?

I have been to fertility doctors and there is nothing wrong with me…I just can’t get or stay pregnant. Plus, I am a lesbian so I don’t get pregnant naturally and must go through a procedure to try. I am turning 40 on all days this year…..Mother’s day!!!! So, not only is it the worst day of the year…but it is my friggn birthday….

Everyone one wants to make a big deal out of me turning the Big 40….I could care less…..I would rather the day go by unnoticed….and when I say I want to skip it …. I am being selfish for not allowing people to celebrate my life and their love for me. How can I celebrate my life and be happy with my ultimate dream of being a mother will have basically ended on 5-9-2010.

I have thought about adopting but can’t afford and forster care in my state requires a stay at home parent. So….I have to figure out how to live one day at a time without my dream. My days are going to work and pretending everything is ok.

Has anyone ever noticed that this whole world is focused on babies and children? Try watching primetime tv, listen to the radio….go into any store…etc.

via: The Experience Project

It’s not that I’m worried about getting older. I’ve come to realise over the years that this tends to happen on a day to day basis rather than on big birthdays. No, I’m fine with that. It’s more to do with the realisation that, come forty, you’re meant to be a certain way. Respectable, maybe. Adult, definitely. Better dressed. So with a few months to go, I’d like to review the list of ‘Things I’m meant to have got right before turning 40′ and see how I score. Why don’t you see how you score too if you’re not 40 yet? And if you are 40, feel free to add things to my list!

Things I’m supposed to get right before turning 40

1) I suppose I should know how to drive. And I should own a car. You know, one of those big things that stand high on the road, has a big boot for putting all the bikes and shopping bags, and the kids are permanently strapped in the back sipping juice from boxes, making crumbs, and peeing in bottles. Everyone else I know who’s 40 drives and has one of these. Except my husband. Plus it’s just not going to happen.

2) I think I ought either to wear heels, or ‘sensible shoes’. I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to wear Converse and Harley Davidson boots once I’m 40. And I might as well give up on the idea of buying the new pair of DM’s I’ve been wanting for the last ten years (as my old ones died just as I was leaving England). No one is going to sell me them once I’m 40.

3) Probably there will be compulsory trips to the hairdresser. Maybe I’ll turn grey and have to ‘colour’? Or cut it very short and dye it blue? It’s not that I don’t trim my hair. I’m aware of the dangers of split ends, and what they can do to your general health and well-being, as well as the social stigma. So a few weeks ago, I took the pair of scissors that I got for free from Boots ten years ago, and I trimmed. So what if it’s not very regular – my hair is one big long mess anyway, who’s going to notice?

4) They might make me wear make up, mightn’t they? I might have to attend a class in a department store on how to apply it. Foundation and all. Maybe I could get a friend to plaster it on on the day they test me, and then the respectable police will leave me alone.

5) I once read in a novel by the woman who wrote Sex and the City that forty year old women now look better than thirty year old ones. That they’ve lost weight, had ‘things done’, and are generally more toned and better dressed. Oops. Shit. Not gonna happen.

6) Oh yes, I should be somewhere on the property ladder, shouldn’t I, not leaving on University accommodation. Well, we’ve been looking at the ladder recently. There’s this cute little house in Selcuk, near Izmir, we’d really like to own for our holidays. It’s cheap but not so cheap we can buy it outright, and borrowing money in Turkey if you’re a foreigner can be complicated. So probably not going to happen.

7) Re: money. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to have more than we do. But hey, we’ve got retirement funds! Yes, we have! And some savings! (though not enough to buy a very small house in Turkey, and probably not enough to buy a car in the UK). And no debts! Hurrah!

I should have written a book. Not a philosophy book, been there done that. But a novel. I should be a best selling novelist by now. And very rich so I could buy lots of cars I can’t drive and cute little houses on the sea side.

9) Should I have had another child? I was hoping to have three. But with Max’s diagnosis and the life complications that ensued we decided that probably not. Not before we’re 40 anyway. Plus we can’t afford a third. Plus two is far too much work already! How am I supposed to hold down a job, save for a house and write a best-seller if I have three kids?

10) Know who I am. Well, fuck that for a lark. I’m a philosopher, I’m entitled to skepticism about personal identity. So that’s one I won’t worry about.

via: http://paris-ankara.blogspot.com

Since she was turning 40, a group of her friends came up with 40 charms for me to make into a bracelet for her. We’ve done this for a couple of other pals in our circle on their 40th too.

See more beautiful jewelry at Karla’s Cottage: 40 ways to say happy birthday.

I have done almost everything I wanted to. I only have 30 things on my list and am adding to it as I think of things.

I have set a few goals, but also am going to just sit back and ENJOY MY JOURNEY….PEACE TO ALL WHO ARE TURNING THE BIG 40

Does anyone know what that means, really???

Here’s what I do know. When I look at my mother who’s in her seventies, I see that she’s changed over the years. I also know that I’m not exactly the same person I was when I was 17. Other than that, I don’t claim to know myself any better now than I did when I was younger and could enjoy roller coasters.

I am the mother of an 18 year old daughter and a 16 year old son. I raised them alone, and I am proud of the people they have become, and honored to be their mother.

I survived Melanoma and Hodgkin’s disease with grace.

I worked full time as a nurse, continued my education to finally complete a Bachelor’s degree all the while raising my family.

I always cooked dinner.

I loved other men, but never settled for less than I deserved.

I was diagnosed as Bipolar when I was 38. Truly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I finally had answers and was able to forgive myself.

I built a beautiful circle of friends.

I had a stroke. I am fine.

I had back surgery. I am fine.

I met the man of my dreams at 39.

Yes, my forties will be wonderful.

Apparently, 40 is the new 30. This makes me worry even more about turning 40, and not just for the inevitable lame jokes. If 40 now defines adulthood, I have only a short time left in which to be a kid.

Does that mean I’ll finally have to start sipping fair-trade coffee in the den, instead of Corona on the back porch? Will I have to give up my black punk-y wardrobe, for an art teacher ensemble of sensible sandals and peasant skirts?

Thirty wasn’t a good year for me, anyhow. Forty is bound to be better. At 30, I had a slummy apartment and a crappy job. Mr. Wonderful (now known as My Husband) was dragging his feet on proposing. It seemed that everyone else I knew had a real job, a spouse, two or three kids, the works. I kept praying, to God or the universe, or whomever was listening, “Puh-leeze, can I just have ‘a’ car, ‘a’ house, and be married to ‘a’ reasonably nice guy, before I get any older?”

Well, it worked. Sort of. I often joke that I should’ve been more specific. “This Old House” is far from being done, the car has over 450,000 km on it, and the husband…nah, just kidding, he is wonderful.

Since I spent my 20s dashing about from one low-paying job to another (or to two jobs, or even three, at a time), I didn’t have the resources for what people think you “should” be doing in your 20s. I’ve never been to Florida on Spring Break, or spent a summer planting trees. I’ve never hitchhiked to Vancouver, or followed the Grateful Dead around for a few months, either.

However, I had so many addresses that my friends still tease me with, “Suuure, you’ve moved for the laaast time. Let me just write your phone number down in pencil.” I also enjoyed a lot of rainy camping trips (the poor man’s vacation), met Neil Young, and was at the hospital the day my nephew was born. (The nurses almost didn’t let me on to the floor. I was covered in cat hair, from moving yet again. My aggressive kitty refused to be caged, and had spent two hours in a moving van, climbing up and down me like a jungle gym, but I was there!)

Times have changed. It used to be, back in the Dark Ages (or, “The ’80s”), that everyone left home at 18 or 19. Sure, you might come home during the summers, if you were away at college, but basically, you were out of the nest, doing your own thing. Now it seems to be OK to live at home until your late 20s, and be saving up to buy a house.

How on earth do all these (harrumph!) young whippersnappers justify this dependant behaviour?

How does one say to worn-out looking Mom and Dad, “Listen, I know I said I’d be out of here this year, but I’d really like to ummm, er, go to Cancun this winter, and, ummm, buy a new Saturn first, so…?”

If you “can’t” afford your own apartment, what kind of justification can you possibly invent for tropical vacations, or for driving a slicker ride than your parents do?

I’m sure if Andy and I approached my parents and said, “We’re tired of supporting ourselves. We’d love to move in with you guys, and spend a year making hemp bracelets to sell at concerts” my mom would have the proverbial canary.

I’m sure she’s pretty sick of all those avian births.

From me crashing my car end over end, to my brother Rory buying a motorcycle a few years ago, she’s probably exhausted. The last time she had to suffer through one was when my brother Matt fell off his skateboard, and broke his arm. When he was 31 years old. Yeah.

I have no idea how I’ll feel in a few months, when I hit 40 and am finally a real, true grown up. I doubt that I’ll give up Saturday morning cartoons, or wearing my Chucks. I certainly will not be driving a mini van, or giving serious thought to gracious forms of “retirement lifestyle living.” I just hope my laugh lines are deeper for a reason. And to paraphrase Jerry Garcia, that the inevitable “touch of grey” kind of suits me, anyway.

Barbra McDonnell is a freelance writer, and works at an agency for people living with disabilities. She and her husband reside in Kitchener. She grew up in Perth County, and graduated from Stratford Central Secondary. The month of June will see her using a fire extinguisher on an overly lit cake.

I feel the same as I did when I was 18. Maybe not quite the same shape but mentally I do. Lately I’ve found myself reminiscing of my teens & early 20’s, listening to music from that time, looking at old photos and talking to my friends about the things we did. Some days are good others are bad. Some days it just seems to consume my every thought & feeling. I lie awake at night thinking of the past, remembering things probably more as I want to remember them, through rosy coloured glasses.

I try to remind myself of all the great things that I’ve seen & done. I’m married to an absolutely beautiful and wonderful person who is my best friend, have a great marriage, a beautiful daughter & another one due soon. I live in a beautiful part of the world, own a great house, and have seen so much of the world.

I know I’ve been fortunate, and don’t deny that, but I just can’t help focusing on turning 40. Both of my parents died relatively young and that may be a major contributor to the feeling that there are less days ahead now than there are behind me. I miss them terribly.

Maybe it’s the reality that my time has past & it’s now my children’s time to discover the world, to have their own adventures and experiences. It’s their world now. Maybe 40 makes you take stock of things and reflect on your life. Thinking of all the things I wanted to be and the man I became.

Amber is a communications consultant/small business owner, US Air Force Reserve officer and suburban zoo keeper (read: wife and mother) based in Arizona. She can usually be found with her trusty sidekick, a Golden Retriever named Zoë. Her blog, Blue Mango,  journals her creative inspirations and personal expressions.

At whatever speed it traveled to get to me, I suppose there’s no point denying that it did. So I sit here pondering the advice and declarations of my senior sisters, who warned me years ago that it pretty much all boils down to gravity.

“Oh, honey, you start waking up in the middle of the night and then, before you know it, you’ve got bags the size of those Prada totes that are sold for thousands on the pages of Vogue.”

“My upper arms make me look a lot friendlier than I feel with all that waving they’re doing.”

“How much do you love it that Britney Spears’ rump has started to sag? If that youngster is suffering from continental drift, it’s no wonder my land mass is a case of full scale plate tectonics.”

“The only magazine cover I could ever grace is one of those topless tribal tributes in National Geographic. Hmmm. The Suburban Tribe of Almaden? I might as well go in for the piercings and have my people get in touch with the editors.”

The funny thing is, I only seemed to notice when my pals were talking about gravity in the physical sense of the word. You know, in the way Sir Isaac Newton intended it to be. It never even occurred to me that there would be a sense of emotional gravity to come along with it.

Yes, I realize this makes me a little too literal, and also explains the rash that climbs up my neck whenever someone brings up the subject of poetry. All I know is I should’ve spent as much time preparing my psyche as I did my vessel when I assessed myself with all those rounds of Body Part Limbo while doing my best Chubby Checker impression of “How low can you go?”

Now that the Big One is upon me, I see that the emotional issues that invade a middle-aged mind have twice the gravitational pull as their physical counterpart. I’m no physicist, but I am thinking that if you don’t take conscious steps to counter them — or dress in 50 pounds of magnetic shield — it’ll be enough to suck you into the depths of the earth’s core.

You see, at 40, all of a sudden it makes sense to ponder whether you embarked upon the right path in life, instead of forging ahead robotically while whacking away at the wild tundra in front of you, as you did throughout your thirties. You can’t help but wonder if one of the choices you made along the way might have led you to a different career, different relationships, better health and finances. And as you get all Robert Frost about your own “road not taken,” you also cope with the fear that own your parents might soon hit the end of their path, or that your children are starting down one you don’t approve of.

These issues invade your busy mind the only chance they can—when you finally have a moment to catch your breath. After work. After your volunteer commitments at the school. After you chauffeur the kids to their sports and hobbies. After homework. After dinner and laundry. Okay, and after a glass of wine and an episode of “Desperate Housewives.”

It’s got me thinking that our physical slide may have very little to do with Newtons’s theories, and way more to do with Eeyore’s. But you won’t find this girl sticking around in a boggy place too long. I’ll be skidding out of there whenever I can, because even an up and coming granny knows when to put the pedal to the metal. And, sugar, this joy ride has nothing to do with impressing teenage girls and everything to do with preserving the sanity of middle-aged ones.

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Shana McLean Moore is a resident of Almaden Valley. She invites you to listen to her free podcast and read more of her columns by visiting www.caffeintedponderings.com.

Deep breathe in..I will be 40 on Sunday…Slowly breathe out… There I’ve said it.
Ive not quite got my head round the thought of being 40. That is definately a grown up age. Am I grown up? Do I behave like a responsible mature adult? Should I by now be buying The Daily Mail (This will never happen, while I am still able to form a thought! (unless they give away a good free DVD)), worrying about the price of property, harking back to a golden era (The 80s!!!), bemoaning how easy it is for the “Youth of Today”,and saying things like “why can’t they write a proper tune! like those nice New Romantics”, “What sort of name is 50 Cents”,and “Wot is it wit all this txt speak! lol”? The stark reality is that I am now as closer to my parent’s generation, than to that of someone leaving University.
In a desperate bid to still feel vaguely attached to a youthful age I am currently scouring application forms and surveys where I can tick a box labled Age : 20 – 39. I can do this for 3 days only!
I never thought my actual chronological age would bother me, but clearly it does. It is surely no coincidence that I started blogging 2 weeks before my 40th. There is a danger that instead of becomming more responsible post 40, I will have contra reaction and start to behave more erratically. I may even consider a tattoo, although it may well just say “Best before Feb 2007″
All joking aside, turning 40 has made me reflect. My main regret is that I took so long to get to grips with who I really am, and I will never get that time back. I must endeavour to make sure the 2nd half of my life, living as I always wanted to be, are the most fulfilled and cherished years of my life.
Posted by Jenny Harvey (Still in her 30s)

You’re trucking along, trying to roll with the flow of life’s ups and downs…and all the while you see yourself as the same…the same as always…as forever…just you…the same you you think you have always been. Then something happens and you realize your not the same you you have always been. You have changed…maybe even a lot.

I’m not saying I don’t like who I have become, because I do. Matter of fact…I like me a lot. I would like to have friends just like me…thats how much I like me.

Its just that now I am trying to catch up with the changes…figure out what they are and what they mean. And what, if anything, I want to do about them.

I am not afraid of growing old anymore than I was afraid of growing up. I just don’t want to miss it because I didn’t see it happening.

I don’t want to give up some things to soon…like my health…or hold on to some things to long…

I think what I really want for the next half of my life…is to keep being me…only better…because I have had 40 years of practice!

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All in all, I feel OK about turning 40. I love my life, I love my wife, I love my sons (both the one on the inside and the one on the outside). Yes, things could be different. I could be 25 pounds lighter, more financially stable and not suffering from occasional insomnia. We all want things.

Yes, I’ll be forty in a little over a week. So what? I’m not expecting to wake up that morning and look in the mirror and see someone remarkably older than the person I saw the day before. I’m not going to stop doing things that I like to do just because I’m forty. I’m still going to like to listen to my iPod. I’m still going to like taking long walks or going running or cycling. I’m still going to chase my dog around in the back yard like I did when I was a kid. The only difference will be I will have officially passed the forty year mark. I plan to continue to enjoy my life as I always have. Right now I still see age as a number. Maybe that will change with time, but not now.

To this point all of the things that I thought happened as people approached forty, haven’t happened. That is with the exception of graying hair.

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