Just a Number

So I've got a big birthday coming up and I don't know how I feel about it. Part of me is excited and the other part wants to throw up. I am going to be 40. And I know there are so many people older than I am and 40 is the new 20 and blah, blah, blah blah. But 40 is old. 40 is middle-aged. I am on the downhill slide to death. Uff dah that sounds grizzly.

But then I've had so many people tell me that their 40s were their favorite decade. That is the decade when you really step into your power. It's when you have the opportunity to make the best business decisions. You have experience, plus connections which can lead to explosive business opportunities. When you're in your 40s you still have energy. You have all of the wisdom that you gained after making all of those stupid mistakes in your 20s and 30s. You've gotten a system down (more or less) for parenting. You got a great network of friends. You're established in your career. Power.

But things are starting to sag. Physically. I've never been a thin woman, but parts of my body that I used to be proud of for their semi-in-shapeness are not even close any more. My ankles hurt a little bit when I walk and my back gets sore from sitting all day. And the gray hair! I came across an article today about saving money while dying your hair. One of the women that commented after the article suggested that we should not even try to cover our grays and embrace them and all that aging has to offer. She's nuts.

I'm only 40. If I let my grays show, I'd look like a grandma. And yes, I do realize that I could be 40 and a grandma. (Just typing these word out is making me wince, you realize. It's one thing to think you might be getting old. It's another to actually put your fears down in writing.) But I am not giving up entirely.


Sure it would be easy to just give in. Eat what ever I wanted. Drink my wine. Eat the nachos. And the donuts and the pasta with the rich sauces. (I should not blog when I'm hungry.) Stop dying my hair and wearing make-up. Wear comfy clothes and wait to die. But as tempting as that sounds, I'm not ready. Because I don't feel old.

And that's what other people say about turning 40. You're only as old as you feel. Well...I feel 28. I still listen to contemporary music. I'm into Rhianna and Lady Antebellum and just the other day I had the rock band Jet (not to be confused with the late 80s R&B/pop group) blaring from my minivan speakers. (Well, Deanna, you say, Jet was popular 8 years ago. What are you, old?) I can still rock out. Look out when I get my Muse on. And I get the Black Eyed Peas cranking when I'm cleaning the kitchen. The kids are mortified when I dance around like I'm a Solid Gold dancer (I keep aging myself, don't I?)

While I am nowhere close to dating again, I do notice guys when I bop around town. The problem is that most of the guys I am attracted to are all about the age I was the last time I was single. And that is pretty creepy. I now know why the whole "cougar" phenomenon exists and can empathize with "Dirty Old Men." It's not necessarily because they want to take advantage of a younger (more impressionable) woman, it's because they simply cannot come to grips mentally with the fact that they are old farts. It's tough.

But then I'm not an old fart. I'm not ready to give in. Seriously. I feel like there is a whole lot more for me to accomplish. I've got big goals and dreams. I want to run a marathon. I want to vacation in Greece. I want to drive a pink Cadillac. I just need to get a move on to accomplish those goals.

Which leads me to a cool thing that happened at the grocery store the other night. I stopped by one that I usually don't frequent to buy a bottle of wine and the clerk asked for my ID. Seriously. And he was visibly shocked when he looked at the date. Yeah, it says 1971, buddy. My body feels likes it's 40, my brain thinks like it's 29, but my skin looks like it's ageless! (Thank you Mary Kay cosmetics! --shameless self-promoting plug.) Now onto the Cadillac!