by Kathy Jolly

Created on: August 30, 2008

Over Forty and Loving It

I am over forty now and rather than moan and whine about it, I have decided to embrace it and relish in it. I have a confidence that only comes with age and the "been there, done that" experience that makes it ring true.

I remember that in my twenties, everything was so intense, so very RIGHT NOW, THIS MOMENT or else. There was no time to wait for anything. I was an over achiever in everything. I must be the best mother to my little girl, the best nurse to my patients, the best daughter to my parents. I don't think I breathed at all during my twenties. I think I was too exhausted. Toward the end of my twenties, I began to relax some and was ready to ease into my thirties. Until I realized I would be 'over the hill'.

I remember when I turned thirty and the panic that I felt. I thought my life was over, I was so OLD. Now I laugh fondly at myself for my foolishness. I began examining my face every morning in the mirror, looking for wrinkles and age spots. Fearing any sign that my body was aging without my permission. I invested in costly lotions and creams, ending up with my own department store in my bathroom. I colored my hair frequently since I am one of those unfortunate women that have black hair that silvers quite early. Once, on the eve of my thirty-third birthday, I had a blindingly irrational moment of panic and went to the local department store for a coloring kit to cover my silver, I was convinced that if I had no silver showing on my birthday, I was not getting older. I woke my child up at around midnight and we went about coloring my hair. She was looking at me like I had flipped my lid, and I guess I had, but helped me with all of the instructions and such. Somehow, in my frenzy to get rid of the silver, I refuse to call it grey, I managed to omit some step or another. Now, let me say that my hair at that time was about half-way down my back and very healthy. Somehow, at the end of this coloring session, I ended up with about two inches of hot pink roots and the rest was still black. Like a punk rocker in reverse. A thirty-three year old punk rocker in reverse. One that had to go to work with hot pink hair. I only worked night shift for the two weeks it took to give my hair a rest so I could go spend a lot of money to have it fixed, only to find out that I had to cut it off because it was so fried. I wore a fishing hat to work for two weeks. My daughter still does not let me forget this episode and she gets apprehensive still if I even act a little funny around my birthdays. I had another pannic attack around thirty-eight, but I got over it rather quickly and nothing weird happened. I began to look forward to being forty.

My fortieth birthday was great. I enjoyed it. I am a grown-up finally. I have wisdom, well, I have more knowledge than I did at twenty. My child is now in her early twenties. She is the one that thinks everything must be RIGHT NOW, THIS MOMENT. I just smile and tell her to chill. There is time for everything. I can't wait to turn fifty-five and get my senior discounts. AARP, here I come!

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