kiwords

Ahem. There is a massive event coming up, and I just want to warn everyone here. Brace yourselves.Are you sitting down? You probably are, unless you're like me and you've propped your laptop on a high shelf to try to keep your toddler from getting her sticky little fingers on it and pokepokepoking all the keys in an attempt to make the pictures of the baby come up.

So if you ARE like me (I'm sorry), sit down. Go ahead. The rest of us will wait.

Are we all sitting down and have braced ourselves? Okay. *deep breath*

I am turning 40. Next month.

Specifically, I am turning 40 in 38 days.

I know! You're shaken, right? I mean...you ARE shaken, aren't you? Because I keep working this fact into as many conversations as I can, and people are distinctly NOT SHAKEN by it. Example:

Friend: Wow, can you believe all this snow and cold?

Me: I KNOW! It's like HELL, and plus I am turning 40 next month, so my life is already full of drama and woe!

Friend (or so I THOUGHT): Oh...um...really?*

*obvious, glaring subtext there - "ONLY 40? Because I would have guessed you were at least ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD, what with the situation going on under your eyes and whatever it is your hair seems to be doing. Can I get you a wheelchair? Because I don't want you to break a hip."

This shocking fact (the turning 40 thing, not the fact that my nearest and dearest really don't care) was brought to my attention last year. And yes, I technically KNEW that I was going to be turning 40, but we all KNOW that social security is going to be completely sucked dry by the Boomers before we get there, and it's not like we go around with that fact forefront in our minds, right? Except shoot, now I'm thinking about it, and what ARE we going to do about that? DANG BOOMERS, man! I'm going to start storing dry goods under my bed and glaring at my parents.

Anyhow, last year I was at a bridal shower. We were playing one of those games that one plays at a bridal shower, the sort of entertainment that would totally make you poke your own eyes out if you weren't enjoying the company and cake. Cake goes a long way for me. Anyhow, the bride was answering questions about her groom, to see how well she knew him, and at one point she said something about how he was going to turn 40 that year. And I sat there, daintily holding my cup of tea, and I took a break from eyeing the cake to think the following thoughts: "FORTY? Oh, no, she must be mistaken. Because she said earlier that he was born in 1970! And I was born in 1971! And *I* am not turning 40 until....wait, okay, let me think. HE was born in 1970. And he will be 40 this year. And I was born in 1971...um...okay, wait...."

The remainder of my thoughts on the subject are unprintable here, because I am not that kind of girl. At least, not in the "outside the head" voice.

So for the last year I've been coming to terms with this fact in my usual thoughtful, productive way. I've mostly been weeping and complaining about it. Also I've spent a lot of time staring in the mirror and pinching viciously at the skin on my belly to see what plastic surgery could do for me. This is the sort of wisdom that comes with age, you know.

And yet, despite ALL of this careful work, my birthday is STILL GOING TO HAPPEN. And I just realized this morning that I probably won't lose 20 pounds, start a stunning career, or finally hit that growth spurt I've been waiting on before then. So what good is 40, if it doesn't arrive in a movie montage of success, attractiveness, and wealth in unimagined proportions?

Sheesh. It's almost like all the Disney movies have been lying to me, and the darkest night doesn't promise a glorious dawn, if only you listen to your heart and truly BELIEVE.

Come to think of it, I've never seen a 40-year-old woman in a Disney movie, so those rules may not apply.

Well, that's all really. I just wanted to warn you all, so you could start storing dry goods underneath your beds too. Or something. Look, I don't know. I can't be expected to figure EVERYTHING out, and right now I'm busy thinking about ME and MY IMPENDING 40-NESS.

And cake.