My youngest is OBSESSED with when his birthday is. He is counting down to his next one, giving us updates and asking questions. Just the mere mention of his birthday leads to excitement.
And, if I’m honest, I still feel like that about my own. And not even ‘big ones’. Well, technically now they are ALL big ones, just not official big ones.
Last year was a BIG one – so this year is a ‘big one’ plus one.
And I am fine with that. I was so excited about turning 40 last year too. I didn’t feel the panic or dread that people seem to associate with getting ‘old’ and I don’t feel the need to lie about my age. Yet.
I am extremely lucky! I am married to a man in a million who makes me weep with laughter daily. I have four amazing children (they’re not perfect, thank goodness, but they are pretty damn fantastic) and I have wonderful family and friends.
I don’t feel 40+ though. I definitely didn’t feel old enough to be planning my eldest son’s 18th recently! In my head I still feel 16. I still feel as young and as carefree as I did when I started seeing my husband. And I hope that when I get super old and start resembling a raisin in a winter coat, driving along WAY below the speed limit, engine screaming, and a massive queue of traffic in my rear view mirror, that I still feel the same…
The benefits of ageing are wonderful. I no longer feel as anxious as I did, I’m not sure if it is self confidence or just a realisation that not everyone will like everyone else, which is okay. I’m not worried about people seeing me dance like David Brent or hear me sing a track from Frozen whilst sounding like an animal in pain.
The way I view myself has changed. So, four children and the passage of time means that I might not have a super toned stomach – but when Janet Jackson and Madonna had wardrobe failures which saw their nipple ‘accidentally’ exposed, it made me giggle. If I wanted to expose a nipple, I could just lift the hem of my dress!
Okay, that’s not strictly true, but I think that image illustrates a battle lost with gravity -and that my poor boobs will never be described as ‘perky’ ever again. And that’s okay. I’m good with that. I’m finally comfortable in my own wrinkly, less taut skin.
How has ageing changed you? Do you feel the same?