They say 40 is the new 30.
At least that’s what they’re promoting now.
It makes you feel young, feel safe and that your whole life is in front of you. And for the whole it is.
It sounds great.
But what the fuckers don’t tell you about 40 is the changes.
It starts with a single hair on the chin that no matter how many times you pluck it the little bastard keeps growing back like a giant wired beacon that waves at one and all in the slightest of airflow, especially when the light is just right.
And then one morning like a dandelion in a breeze they’ve multiplied .
Your pubic hair is also on the move.
It’s started to wonder down into your thighs, past your knickers line. (And let’s face it by 40, we’ve given up on the fancy pants and comfort is king.)
And it’s also sprouting out the top too. Creeping up to your bellybutton and beyond.
And the nipple hair. Where the hell did that sneak in from?
Then there is the changes in your sleep pattern. You go from being able to light the candle at both ends and keep up the pace in your 20s. Your 30s you introduce lazy weekend mornings where you can lie in bed reading the paper til gone 11am (provided your thrown a brioche at your offspring if you have them and put on Peppa pig).
But by 40 a 21:30 bedtime is looking appetising. And you can’t sleep in past 7:30 even on your day off.
Add to this the disturbance in your sleep pattern caused by night sweats and the constant readjustment of how many limbs need to be hanging out of the duvet to keep cool, whilst still receiving an element of comfort that the blanket provides.
All this whilst your partner snores peaceful beside you.
Usually it’s about 2 am you start wondering if the sentence is worth it to smother them with a pillow. After all you’re only in your 40s you have your whole life ahead of you.
By 4am you’ve reasoned with yourself that maybe the advertisers have been lying and being in clink until your 60 suddenly isn’t as appetising as first thought.
It’s usually about this time that aforementioned beloved wakes for his 3rd wee of the night (because let’s face it, it isn’t just us women that find life changes at this age, but we definitely get it worse) and on his return he has rolled over and is quiet enough for you to get some shut eye….just in time for the alarm to go off so you can start the process of shepherding the smaller humans that you live with, the ones who you used to find so adorable when they learnt to speak, who now just grunt, out of the door in time so they don’t miss the bus and you have a vague chance of getting yourself to work on time.
You yourself are already on your 3rd outfit change of the day realising that everything you own now suddenly either does not fit like it once did despite no changes in your diet, or is causing a mini heatwave. You resort to layers so that one can rip them off at a moment’s notice when the next flush kicks in.
As always, just as you’re leaving the house you get the regular text that they’ve forgotten their pe kit again so you have to venture into the pit that is their bedroom.
After 5 mins of searching through the piles of stewed pants and gray soled socks you find the pe kit. The trick to this is follow your nose, because the garments are rotting in their carrier bag, still wet from last week’s track run in the pouring rain despite a dozen reminders between then and now to get them washed, their bedrooms tidied and all of your crockery and cutlery returned from under their beds.
In fact you’re not 100% convinced these clothes have passed through the wash cycle during this half of term.
So after the 5 mile detour in the opposite direction without a word of thanks you finally arrive at the office 10 minutes late, mid hotflush dying for a coffee as you hadn’t had time to grab one at home, but from the look Debbie in accounts gives you, you realise that it’s out of the question and you crack on with your day.
At lunch it dawn’s on you that in the attempts of locating the little crutch goblins school kit, your lunch so lovingly thrown together before bed the night before is still sitting in the fridge despite the post-it you left on the kettle, fridge and front door….the front door that had been left open as the little darlings run out the house chasing the bus down the street. Which reminds you, you must buy the bus driver another litre of vodka as a thank you for stopping when he sees them in the rear view mirror as he pulls away from their stop each day.
Emotionally you’re already done for the day. Hormones swinging from murderous rage to holding back sobs because it’s all just too much.
Having grabbed a meal deal from Tesco in your lunch break, you step outside into the glorious sunshine wondering how many days and hours it is until you can retire.
If 40 is the new 30, is this the start of a clever ploy that the government will keep you working to your 80s in the not too distant future.
And as you stand there in the sunshine, enjoying a nice cool breeze from behind, it dawns on you that you have spent the day with you skirt tucked into your pants.
So I’m not sure I want 40 to be the new 30.
I want to give up any attempts at being cool or trendy and I want to start my evolution into the village hag, who people whisper about as I shuffle past, being followed by my flock of feral cats I’ve been feeding, dressed in purple and begin the inevitable process of learning to live off the land, discover what herbs and tinctures ease my ever increasing list of ailments and take time to smell the roses as I shuffle round the village to the local produce market.
So let’s all agree to acknowledge turning 40 is actually turning 40.
A time when life gets tough, your body begins to hate you. You’re just years away from your little babies flying the nest, something you’re not ready for as they still have so much to learn to survive out there, and you still haven’t actually figured out what you want to do with your life, let alone accept all the changes that are happening out of your control.
Turning 40 is shit. But at least big pants and comfortable bras are now acceptable as are weekend afternoons of just resting your eyes for 10 minutes.