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PHEW! I made it! Seriously. I’ve been having these silly moments lately of wanting to do something ridiculously edgy, like start smoking again, or buy too many pairs of shoes or chop my hair off and dye it too many different colours. Boob job, nose job, lipo, botox! All of these things are screaming at me. “Come to the dark side”. “Aging is traumatic” “You are old and ugly and unlovable! Start chopping things off and putting new things on!”
Oh my goodness! I have to remind myself that 40 is a number and with that number comes a wealth of experience. In these forty years I have been quite fortunate and have done plenty of things to put a smile on my face when I’m in the rocking chair at 80. Any regrets I may have had were dealt with before this number crept into my life. So what I can’t fit into my niece’s jeans this year! She’s fourteen! I’m not supposed to be wearing her jeans. It looks really bad when my briefs are hanging out of the back. Please! I work with children, I don’t have to become one…it’s really not that cool. Kids look at you funny when you are trying too hard. The sad part for me has been that this year, for the first time ever, they have been able to guess my age! So, I’ve switched to a mid-rise cut. Not too low, not too high, just right.
I thought that I would sail through turning 40 with minimal impact. I couldn’t understand what the big fuss was about; why people got so bent. Then I started to reflect.
My father had his first heart attack at the age of forty and was dead by 55. My mother had already had cervical cancer, was coming up to breast cancer and was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s by the age of 51. Hmmm? I was starting to understand. And yet, I am neither of these people. My father’s heart attack(s) and other diseases were preventable. I do not live the life my father lived today. My mother’s disease(s) could be considered consequential. I am not my mother.
What both of my parents gave me was the freedom and opportunity to be myself. To not be a victim to situation or circumstance. They taught me to be passionate, to stand up, to sit up straight, to eat my veges, to go for a walk, to take time to relax and get away from the hustle and bustle of life. They taught me. And today, now that i am forty, I have this mantra that chants through my mind while the wind is whipping through my hair as I ride down the road, or with each stroke in the pool that “I am me. I am free.

I do not smoke, drink, drug, depress or hide. I can do anything. ANYTHING! If I want to and if I try and the only thing getting in my way is me…so sometimes I have to tell me to shut the ‘f’ up and get out of the way cause there are too many things to do and I am still having a whole lot of fun doing them!”

For now, I am done counting. I will not count my wrinkles, grey hairs moles or age spots. I will not count the minutes ticking by or how many stairs are in my house. Instead of counting years I will count how many miles I ride or how many laps I swim.

I will count how many hugs I give, how many kisses my husband gives me. I will count my friends, my dear close friends. I will count my fruits and veges. I will count my savings. I will count how many boys I’ve kissed over the years. How many places I’ve been, how many cliffs I’ve jumped from; how many oceans I’ve swam, how many lakes I’ve paddled; how many flowers I’ve planted and how lucky and grateful I am to have live this life…the one I’m living right now!