Yesterday, I was 29 years old. I cannot remember a time in my life that I was older or younger than 29. It has just always been my age and I never considered changing it. I mean, it is MY age so I should be able to call it whatever I want, right? You really should see the look on people’s faces when I would say that I am 29 with four grandchildren and 3 adult children! Ha! I sure had them all fooled, didn’t I?
But, you know, I really have no idea why I felt the need to say 29. I don’t really remember anything spectacular happening during my real time spent as a 29-year-old. It was just another year. I am not embarrassed by my achievements or my experiences that I have had. I am proud to have 3 adult children and 4 grandchildren. In short, I am pretty proud of my 40 years on this earth and look forward to many more ahead.
Why do we feel the need to hide behind socially constructed labels? When did aging becoming something to be ashamed of rather than something to elicit respect? And what on earth made us so obsessed with being in our 20s? I mean, really, the 20s are hard! I watch my own children trying to figure out the world around them. I would not voluntarily experience that decade over and over again! Forty is nice. I am
Forty is nice. I am comfortable with where I am in my life. I have an excellent job that allows me to work from home. I have a beautiful family. I have known loss and therefore I have learned to appreciate. I am healthy, active, and educated. Life is good. Forty is good!
So, with that stated, today I aged 11 years! Today, I proudly entered the 40s club!