Age is just a number; a really big number
My 40th birthday came and went this week without my hair
immediately turning gray and falling out, as some people jokingly
warned it would. After more than 14,600 days of life, in fact, I
was surprisingly nonchalant about the milestone.
Age is just a number; a really big number
My 40th birthday came and went this week without my hair immediately turning gray and falling out, as some people jokingly warned it would. After more than 14,600 days of life, in fact, I was surprisingly nonchalant about the milestone.
I was excited to turn 16 back in 1985, as that meant I could get my driver license and realize that it actually isn’t a driver’s [with an “s”] license – check out the spelling on yours. I was happy to turn 18 in 1987, as that meant I could register to vote, officially call myself an adult – though my parents argued otherwise – and I could sign notes for myself as a high school senior; a privilege quickly revoked after it was abused.
Turning 21 in 1990 was cool, as it meant I was really, officially an adult who could order drinks at the bar. But the bar scene never really excited me, so that wasn’t too big of a deal.
Turning 30 in 1999 felt odd, because from that age forward we are expected to have real jobs and families and be all adult. When you’re 29 and below, you are still allowed to be “finding yourself” and “discovering your path.” I had a real job and a family when I was 25, so that birthday wasn’t too out of the ordinary.
Turning 35 in 2004 actually upset me a bit, as it meant I was no longer part of the 18-34 advertising demographic. During my time in that demo, I didn’t really care that advertisers may be targeting me, but when I moved out of that age range, it kind of stung that I was no longer one of those youngsters in their late teens and 20s.
Now, the demographic to which I belong is being targeted by Cialis and Volvo and Lipitor. There are no 40-somethings in Mountain Dew commercials.
Turning 36, 37, 38 and 39 didn’t bug me too much, as that’s an age range that doesn’t get much press. There are no “Lordy, lordy, look who’s 38” birthday cards at Target. Ah, but there are plenty of slogans for this latest birthday:
I turned “The Big 4-0” on Monday. For some reason, I actually like the sound of even-numbered birthdays more than the odd-numbered ones, so 40 sounds better than 39, even if it’s not.
Am I officially over-the-hill? I don’t know. Climbing a hill can be a fun challenge, but rolling down one is more fun and a bit easier – though the injuries associated with it take longer to heal.
That last paragraph was brought to you by Hallmark.
Is 40 really the new 30? I wouldn’t mind being 10 years younger physically, but I do have a decade’s more knowledge than I did in 1999, so there’s no point in turning back, as if I could. When I was 30, my wife and I had a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old. I loved when my kids were that age, but it’s pretty cool being able to have conversations with my 14-year-old and my 12-year-old and play catch with them and coach them and be there as they are becoming young men.
I Googled “turning 40” and found a blog that says turning 40 is “all about the journey.” The journey to 40 was quick and is now over, so I hope the journey away from here is a long one.
Based on the longevity enjoyed by my four biological grandparents, I’m not even halfway through my “journey” yet, and that’s reassuring. I’ve told myself that I’m going to be OK with being 40, primarily because I have no choice.
Now excuse me while I wash down my Lipitor with a Mountain Dew.
