Sunday, December 21, 2008


This week, I've been coming to terms with the fact that on Monday, I turned 39. THIRTY NINE! Thirty nine is tough because it is one year away from being WICKED OLD. It's not like turning 30 when you're only old in a teenager's mind. It's one year away from 40. Which is really, truly old.

The forties: when insecure men trade in the mini van for a sports car and get an ill-advised diamond stud in their ear. The forties: when insecure women botox and lift their faces until they resemble platypuses from outer space. The forties: when unfit men and women start having bypass surgeries and routine endoscopies. When if you are fit and bad-ass enough to make it to the Olympics, everyone assumes you are on more steroids than a race horse. That's one year away!

Generally, I'm not one of those people who have mini-breakdowns on my birthday. It's only a number, after all. The only other time I ever had a problem was when I turned 35. And that was the newspaper's fault.

I had been perusing an article that was discussing a new trend among clothing manufacturers: they were recognizing that if you didn't want to wear low riders with a thong and a baby tee, there wasn't much else out there unless you wanted to resemble a librarian. Since I had recently been on a clothing excursion and couldn't find jeans that would contain more than 50% of my pelvis or a Tshirt that didn't ride up to rib cage level if I lifted my hands up, I was in full agreement with this article. It's about time those clothing manufacturers woke up! It's about time they started targeting women "between 35 and 45". The problem was the title of the article: "Clothing manufacturers target middle aged women."

MIDDLE AGE???? I believe I stopped breathing for a full 90 seconds before I hyperventilated myself into a full fledged conniption. Then I cried for the rest of the day. (Ok, not really)

This time around, there's no newspaper article, just that number, looming on the horizon. And the thought of being WICKED OLD.

Then, on Saturday, I saw a beautiful sight. I saw the GQ magazine with the picture on Jennifer Aniston on the cover. Jennifer Aniston and the striped tie. She's 39. Almost 40.

If that's what 39 looks like, then I'm okay with that.


Diane said...

Speaking from experience, the 40's are pretty amazing.

Enjoy your birthday!!!

Anonymous said...

Happy birthday!

I want to tell you that age is just a number but you already know that. And I can relate to your post.

I had a similar jolt this past October when I turned 38 because I realized that's how old my Dad was when I was a teen; his friends made him a boob birthday cake and I was shocked that he wasn't too old to think about sex. ha!

Age hits us in funny ways. On the bright side, once the shock wears off, I really do think that today's 40 yr olds are young, hip and active, a lot of my friends seem more like in their late 20s then their numbers would belie. Just like Jennifer Aniston.