In which I bitch about aging, and the road not taken, and blah blah blah.
They say that “40 is the new 30” (which probably is more a nod to the efficacy of modern medicine than anything else) but 40, IMO, is nothing at all like 30.
For me, being 40 means that while my mental outlook is damn near bulletproof – I know what I like and I no longer worry about what people think, and have learned much about what I require from my lifestyle in order to be mentally, spiritually, and emotionally comfortable – my physical experiences are getting pretty weird, to say the least.
I can no longer deny myself proper nutrition and rest and still function at all. I am watching my hair slowly but surely migrate from my head to the rest of my body. My cycle is no longer textbook perfect; my luteal phase seems to be getting weirder as I slowly pull away from my reproductive years.
I can no longer eat all the Mexican food I want; it now turns immediately into pudge. I get random aches and pains in places I didn’t even know I had. There are the mornings my feet feel like sausages, and the evenings I feel totally wiped out even though I haven’t done anything particularly energetic.
There are the new wrinkles in my forehead and around my eyes, and there is the increasing size of the veins in backs of my hands [this grosses me out inordinately]. There is the fact that everything jiggly is about two inches lower than my body-image tells me it should be.
My vision continues to deteriorate, and I’m getting those black floaty things in my field of sight (future vitreous or retinal detachment, anyone?). I have developed a few spider and varicose veins in the past couple of years. My (remaining) hair has more silver in it than ever.
I am hyper-aware of mortality, particularly my own, whereas even three years ago the thought that I’d get old and die literally never crossed my mind. (That could be a side effect of living with an 86-year-old grandmother, and dating a man who lives with his 83-year-old mother, more than an artifact of my own age.)
Over-indulging, in anything at all, costs me much more recuperative time than it once did; the sad thing is that this goes for nookie as well as food and vodka. (Nothing says “you’re getting old” like requiring three days to recover from a particularly good fuck because you threw your back out. Can I get a witness?)
Also somewhat disturbing is the realization that I have already achieved who I’m going to be: I do not harbor any hidden easter egg hacks; I’m not going to suddenly get smarter or prettier or more talented. (Or more driven, for that matter.) Statistical odds say that I’m not going to make it in entertainment, I’m not going to get that PhD, I’m not going to become a brilliant writer of fiction, and I’m not going to guest star on the Today Show for having accomplished any of those things… simply because I haven’t already done so and I’ve reached the age I have.
Not to say I don’t have anything left to do in my life, but one can safely extrapolate from past trends. I’m good, but I’m not that good… and even if I were, I seem to be a little lazy. I’ll dabble in entertainment like I always have, and I’ll (probably) retain my native intelligence, and I’ll keep writing in the small ways that I do (it’s not like keeping a damn-near daily blog for 8 years is a non-accomplishment, and you should totally read my riveting technical manuals), but I will always be a small fish.
So, that’s kind of a weird realization. There was once a subtle but ever-present feeling of possibility, that literally any life path could open up before me at any moment. That feeling is, if not gone, at least vastly reduced for me now that I’ve turned 40. I don’t expect myself to bust out with anything more remarkable than I already have done.
All the entertainers I see are younger than me. And if they’re not, they started on the road to household-name-ness when they were significantly younger than I am now. I spent my ‘making it’ years in Iowa rather than in a big city working, and while I don’t regret that I do realize that that decision cut a lot of branches off my potentiality tree.
In other words, this is it.
This is me.
WYSIWYG.
And that’s okay. (But it’d be better if my body was still, like, 20. Srsly.)
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Ah, to be 40 again!
*chuckle* -m
vuboq thinks you are *that* good!
*smooches*
I loves Vuboq. -m
If you is wysiwyg, then you is doing perfect. Wrinkles and silver add character. And all those aches and pains you start feeling… well, my theory is that they have been there our whole life, but as we age we become more body aware –we are more in tune with our vessel– thus we notice the joints and soreness a little more. How’s that for a non-depressing and borderline delusional take on it?
I love borderline delusional! I think it’s fucking hawt! I *heart* you, Shenry.
But seriously, I grok your hypothesis – a lot of people aren’t really in their bodies until they get older – but I think I really do have more random pain/discomfort than I ever used to. -m
I’m enjoying some facets of this aging bidness, but others – they suck teh donkeys. (E.C. Enemy # 1 = nosehairs.) As for things I miss, hm, how about one-handed fence-vaulting? (Or any of numerous other acts of agility and vigor.) And yeah, the whole eating whatever, whenever thing. Perfect vision. Reading a book at night without falling asleep. Oh, I could go on. (And I do frequently, in my best gravelly, curmudgeonly voice.)
I see this, my fifth decade, as one of outdoor adventuring, reveling in Nature’s splendor. Once I turn fifty, maybe I can settle down and get back to accomplishing some of those goals from my teens and twenties. Or not. I now know how to appreciate a simple life.
Well said, you. *smooch* -m
Oh yeah. I feel infinitely more self-aware now than I ever have, more in touch with who I am and what I want (and don ‘t), just like you said. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Lol. The physical side of aging has been the hardest for me as well. I don’t feel nearly as old as my body is trying to make me feel. It’s really not fair at all. I got such a late start on my real life though, having wasted my 20’s completely, that I still feel there are many possibilities ahead for me. At least I hope so.
Did you spend your twenties in jail or something? đŸ˜‰ -m
I’m totally with you on the veins on the backs of your hands. I’ll block mine on one side and see if it makes me pass out.
Nope.
Happy bday!
Hand veins = teh yuck. *shudder* -m
hmmm interesting, 37 here, n i hit that ‘wow, guess i’m too old to be a wunderkind at anything’ several years back, and ‘huh, guess this is what i’m doing with my life’ more recently… when i ruined my back in 2002, there was a lot of grieving to go along with that, like ‘guess i’ll never hike macchu picchu.’
on the other hand, i’ve noticed that my pain tolerance is going up, so maybe i’ll hike macchu picchu anyway, aches and pains be damned. i’m in pain pretty much all the time lately and i’ve just gotten used to it. it’s really not so bad. you just keep busy.
vision is depressing. i’ll never see as many stars as i did when i was younger. and i still am surprised when i can’t read things in low light. and the latest issue of the Onion has super-tiny type and i just can’t be bothered.
but overall i like where i am… the whole “have learned much about what I require from my lifestyle in order to be mentally, spiritually, and emotionally comfortable” thing is SO not to be under-estimated… and i’m totally lovin’ and rockin’ the sexual peak thing, which i think is so not a myth, tho it’s probably more about knowing yourself, than about some biological thing.
rock on mush… yr the awesomest girl. hugs n kisses đŸ™‚
Yeah, but you went to Harvard, didn’t you? where they burn out younger? So you passed your mental peak in college. *cackle*
As for “…rockin’ the sexual peak thing, which i think is so not a myth, tho it’s probably more about knowing yourself, than about some biological thing,” well, that’s my opinion, too. I think I’m probably less likely, if libido is approached as an effect of fertility, to be rockin’ the sexual peak thing physically, but I’ve definitely gotten old enough to TOTALLY get my PERV on and LIKE it.
You’re awesome too. I do not approve of relentless pain, however, and wish you didn’t have to live with it. -m
OK, gotta say that your best isn’t over yet.
I lost my job at 40 something, that made me realize that I didn’t want to work for anyone else and that I had to find something to do. Being good at what I did do allowed me to pay off the house 10 years early and then retire.
You are a brilliant writer…some of your best work is yet to come. If you keep at it.
JMO
They say life begins at 40… -m
Well, having known your for as long as I have, (and am also 40) I would say that you have done pretty damn well. I can sooo relate to the silver hair, jiggly things, not really feeling like I have accomplished a whole hell of a lot. But just so you know, every time I listen to your CD I sit there and think “Fuckin A that girl can sing!!! ” You may not be on the billboard top 40, but you bring listening pleasure to anyone who hears you perform or hears one of your songs – myself included. So here’s to turning 40!!! You are fabulous.
Aw, bless you girl! -m
Lol! No, just drunk.
Ah. Same thing, I guess. Only without the pissed off dykes stealing your smokes. -m
Oh yeah, the forty thing is great…I have such fond memories of being in Guatamala for my fortieth. I totally wanted to escape from life and our adventures led us there. Now that I am almost 42, I can say that you find out what your passion is in your late 20s. Then you regroup in your thirties and redeifine that passion and by your forties, you are totally grooving to it.
I love potato leek soup and have been making soup furiously for weeks now!
Soup is my bitch. I love soup weather. -m