As I sank into my couch, clad in my favorite pair of yoga pants and ready to binge-watch my recorded shows, it hit me: it’s Saturday night. Once, this occasion meant dressing up and heading out, but now, I couldn’t be happier just lounging in my family room. This is how I know I’ve officially embraced adulthood.
If my 20-year-old self could see me now, she’d probably be doubled over with laughter, clutching her drink as I settle in for another episode of The Bachelor. But honestly, my 40-year-old self is unfazed by her mockery. I absolutely love being in my forties.
Looking back, I remember the terror I felt about turning forty. My mother hosted a surprise “Over The Hill” party for my dad filled with black balloons and an absurd cake depicting him as a fat old man crawling over a hill. I left that night vowing I would never be “old” at forty.
During my twenties, I made strong declarations about what I would never do at that age. I swore I wouldn’t be the type to sit on the couch on a Saturday night. I was determined to travel the world and never, under any circumstances, drive a minivan. Oh, how life has a funny way of making you eat your words!
Surprisingly, I’ve stopped obsessing over the scale. My 20-year-old self would be shocked to know that my current size 8 allows for wine and still fits comfortably. She’d be astonished to learn that I assert myself professionally and am unapologetic about it.
Additionally, I’ve completed seven marathons—something I couldn’t have imagined in my twenties. Motherhood and the quest for sanity often lead a woman to run away from home, even if just for a bit.
My younger self would roll her eyes at my spacious SUV and my meticulously planned carpool schedules. But she’d be thrilled to know that I still crank up the volume whenever Jon Bon Jovi plays on the radio—some things never change.
She would be comforted knowing I found genuine love after years of dating men who didn’t appreciate me. But lasting love isn’t just roses and candlelit dinners; it’s also dealing with late-night messes and knowing he’s there for the long haul.
Let’s be real, though; she’d probably burst out laughing if she saw my current underwear drawer. Those lacy, sheer numbers have been replaced by comfy lycra and supportive underwire. Take that, Victoria’s Secret! And guess what? I’m happier with my Hanes.
My 20-year-old self would be relieved to learn I’m financially secure enough that I don’t have to skip rent for a little splurge. Of course, she’d be horrified to discover that a “splurge” means a new dishwasher these days, but let’s keep that between us.
She’d also be disappointed to know I’ve only made it to London so far and haven’t yet traveled the world as I once dreamed. And if I told her my best trip was a road trip to Texas with my kids, she might just roll her eyes. But that trip, complete with Mad Libs and a stop in the quirky town of Bucksnort, TN, holds its own special magic.
She’d wish she had hugged her father a little tighter and cherished every moment with him, especially since he’s no longer here. And who wouldn’t be excited to learn that Ross ends up with Rachel?
Deep down, I think my younger self would come to realize that my 40-year-old self isn’t so bad after all. She’d likely change her perspective on turning 40 once she learns that confidence can make everything, including intimacy, even better. She’d understand that there’s nothing to fear about reaching this milestone, and that some of the best years are just around the corner.
I’d gladly make space for her on the couch, but knowing her, she’s probably busy planning a night out. That’s perfectly fine; I’ll be right here when she’s ready to come back.
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In summary, while we may change over the years, the essence of who we are remains. Embracing adulthood can lead to unexpected joys and rewards, even if they come wrapped in yoga pants and Saturday night reruns.
Keyphrase: Reflections on Life After 40
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