In six months and 10 days I will be 40. I think that puts me into middle age, no? I keep hearing ‘40 is the new 20!’ and I cringe a little. I didn’t like 20. Like, at all. I was having babies and going to college and was really broke all of the time. Of course, now that I think on it, I am still in school and never seem to have much in my bank account. But I am definitely happier now than I was in my twenties.
There are things about my twenties that I do miss, like my girlish figure. At the time I was convinced I was horrifically fat and unattractive, when really I was just tired from babies and lacking any real fashion sense. My legs were great, my boobs were still where they started in life, my hair didn’t need any highlights to camouflage gray and I never had to bother with make-up. I mean, what’s not to love? Youth really is wasted on the young.
So now, I find myself taking stock of where I am at. I woke up one morning to discover cellulite on my thighs. When did this happen? Gray hair, once a novelty, is now just a nuisance. And my boobs – well, we won’t go there. But with the wisdom of mid-life, I am taking it all in stride. In fact, I feel more beautiful at almost-40 than I ever did when I was younger. Maybe I have a hefty dose of narcissism, but whatever, I’ll take it. 30 years of not liking your thighs is long enough.
Would you want to be 20 again?