Really? Is that what they say? Cause, at 30, I don't remember my mother complaining of crow's feet, hot flashes and incontinence. Truthfully, I don't remember my mother at 30 because I was only 3, but trust me, she didn't talk about these things until she was closer to 50. If our generation is so youthful, so spry, so fountain of youth, then why are all my friends complaining that their bodies have hit the skids? My sister moans that since turning 40 she's had one long, chronic sinus infection and an extra 15 pounds that act like a bad house guest and refuse to leave. A friend complains she has to change out of her cold, sweat-drenched pajamas 2 to 3 times a night. Another one gripes of gray hairs that no amount of artificial color can cover. And when I'm out with the girls we hilariously, like a graceful circle of synchronized swimmers, pull out our reading glasses to read the menus.
Don't get me wrong, my friends and I are no hags. On the contrary, many of us, on a good day, could be labeled as M.I.L.F's. (Okay, maybe only by each other, but HEY, what are friends for??) Most of us eat well, take vitamins, exercise, yada, yada. We do
everything most things right but we hit 40 and suddenly it's payback time. We took out high-interest loans on our nubile flesh to afford us a multitude of pleasures, excesses, and stupid mistakes. We deposited these sparkling, wild, and poignant memories into our mental banks to borrow against in our depleted old age. And so the reparations begin. But why should we pay for behaviors or actions that brought us no joy like bad posture, wearing uncomfortable shoes, or bad falls and injuries? That doesn't seem fair. Even having a baby, the most beautiful, natural, life-changing event, takes it's unjust toll when suddenly we can't take a crap without our hemorrhoids popping out or sneeze without streams of pee dribbling down our legs. (This actually happened to me when I cheered too loud after my son shot his first-ever basket and won the game for his team.)
If I only knew then what I know now, I would have appreciated my flat stomach, my strong bladder and my unblemished, silky, smooth hands. I would have learned to love my appearance, make the most of my flaws, rather than be my own worst judge. I would have listened to my OB-GYN and done more kegels!
So what's the point of this post besides sending you all into a depressed tailspin? The point is, whatever they say about 40 being the new 30, let's roll with it. Because when we hit 30, we mourned our 20's, at 40 we mourned our 30's. At 50, I presume we will mourn our 40's. Let's nip it in the bud and not waste any more of our precious time. Dr. Christiane Northrup, author of, THE WISDOM OF MENOPAUSE, describes this phase as an awakening - a time to replay the events of our lives and learn from our mistakes. An opportunity to do the things we've always wanted to do because we are aware that our time is valuable and it is limited.
We can look at this time in our lives as a glass half-empty or a glass half-full. I'm choosing the latter. You?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
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