This week, I completed an obligatory HR training at work, which included a segment on age discrimination. Apparently, the Age Discrimination in Employment Act (ADEA) protects individuals aged 40 and older from being discriminated against. Wait, what? Now that I’m in my 40s, there’s a law to shield me from ageism? I still chuckle at fart jokes, for crying out loud—how can I be “old”? I feel like I’ve been catapulted into “middle age” without warning.
Physical changes are definitely on the horizon. My rational mind understands this, but the speed at which these changes have occurred has left me reeling. First up: chin hairs. One morning, I woke up to find that the single, charming chin hair I’d had since college had multiplied like rabbits. I felt like a goat! The time I spend grooming those pesky hairs each week is staggering. Whenever my partner strolls into the bathroom, he finds me perched on the counter with a magnifying mirror in one hand and tweezers in the other. Or, as we joke, that’s our version of foreplay.
And then there’s my neck—wrinkles are rapidly appearing, and I can’t help but wonder: is gravity trying to squeeze the life out of me? Did my head suddenly gain weight and pull my neck down? Is Richard Simmons addressing this issue in any of his workout DVDs? Or are women destined to age like trees, with neck rings as their markers?
To add insult to injury, my hair is thinning too. I once had a mane that was the envy of many. Now, it’s the only part of me that seems to be in decline. I’ve even resorted to taking prenatal vitamins in a desperate attempt to remedy the situation. Fantastic choice if you enjoy being perpetually constipated. Maybe my hair has decided to head south for the winter—just like my chin!
In the past, I’d feel offended when someone would say, “Oh, you look great for having three kids; you must work out.” This is what I like to call a compliment sandwich—an insult disguised as praise. How about just saying I look good, period? The same goes for age. If you say, “You look amazing for 41,” you might just be asking for a punch in your youthful throat.
But hey, the perks of age outweigh the wrinkle cream. I used to be obsessed with what others thought of me. I’d fret over unanswered voicemails or snarky comments. Oh no, have I upset someone? Please like me! Now, I’m comfortable with who I am and what I bring to the table. Other than friends and family, I couldn’t care less about anyone else’s opinion. It feels liberating.
I now embrace my quirks. I’m an open book, straightforward, and an oversharer. This honesty is why my friends turn to me for advice—no judgment here. Every embarrassing Tinder exchange, odd rash, and awkward sex story will be openly dissected, often accompanied by tears of laughter and a glass of Pinot.
In my youth, I was quick to apologize for everything. Heaven forbid someone be upset with me! The middle-aged me only apologizes if I’ve genuinely been a jerk. I won’t apologize for my obsession with Nicolas Cage or for cutting storytime short by only reading half a page to my toddler. Nor will I apologize for spending time and money on an annual girls’ trip with my best friends until we’re old and gray. Maybe we’ll all end up living together like the Golden Girls. I’ll be Blanche, and I won’t apologize for getting frisky with men in nursing homes.
I’m taking more risks these days. Playing it safe? Not for me! I’ve started writing and even signed up for my first marathon. Sure, last summer, a man in his 60s passed me while wearing an “Ask Me About Race Walking” shirt. I won’t be deterred! I now walk around naked in front of my husband—something that used to be as rare as spotting a pygmy hippo. Back then, I’d worry about what he thought: Can he see that dimple on my backside? Now? All he sees is a naked woman in the room, and trust me, that leads to some fun times.
Additionally, I’ve become more protective of my time. I understand its value now. Just last week, I had a conversation with my 11-year-old daughter that perfectly encapsulated my fabulous 41-year-old self.
Her: “Mommy, I need you to make a dessert for my class party.”
Me: “I’ll happily grab something from Target in the morning.”
Her: “But… all the other moms are making desserts!”
Me: “That’s wonderful. I work full-time and have three kids. Ain’t nobody got time for that right now.”
Her: “REALLY, MOM, you’re just watching TV!”
Me: “You have an excellent eye. My current priority is The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. And could you please fetch me a glass of wine?”
Lastly, I take things less seriously. Life has shown me enough tragedies to know what truly matters. I’ve seen people my age face unimaginable loss. This perspective sharpens your focus on what’s important. Just last week, my 9-year-old shouted, “Mooooom, Gavin pooped on the kitchen floor!” Ugh, potty training fail. But then he followed up with, “Never mind, the dog just ate it.” Problem solved, and I didn’t even have to let go of my wine glass.
In conclusion, aging brings both challenges and freedoms. While chin hairs, neck wrinkles, and thinning hair are unwelcome companions, the wisdom and confidence that come with age are truly invaluable.
Keyphrase: chin hair and neck wrinkles
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