Yes, that is right today is my birthday. I am smack dab in the middle of my 40s. WOW. How did I get here? Like many other Sunday posts, I am joining the link up group ” the Weekly Wrap”. But I figure instead of reviewing my past week (which really wasn’t that active for me), I would summarize my life thus far.
When I think of 45, I feel a mix of things. It’s an age that means you are old enough not to feel young anymore, but not old enough to complain about it. It’s like the middle child of ages… no one is impressed or thinks your turning 45 is a big deal but you.
Today I’m 45 and I’m not having one of those aha moments of gratitude about my age, which trust me, I do have. I get that the alternative to aging is terrible, but this post isn’t about that. Instead, this will be a blunt assessment of what 45 years of life feels like and what is ahead of me. If you are reading through this blog hoping for some kind of wise reflection at the end about how age is “only a number” or “you’re only as old as you feel inside,” STOP reading. Like always I am going to be brutally honest. I’m going to end it in the middle of a thought, which I have been known to do before. But the real reason why is because that is how I feel my life is right now. A juxtaposition per say.
Aging by the Numbers
Once you reach your first milestone of aging, you quickly learn that if your age ends in a “9,” it’s somehow worse than if it ends in “0.” So, 39 is actually a worse age than 40 because you are the oldest of the thirty-somethings and dangerously close to putting a kabash to all your lost dreams, and your unrealized potential for that decade. You figure out that at least when you turn 40, or start any other fresh decade, your the new kid on the block. And you start that new decade with a new sense of optimism for that particular decade.
As you age, you also learn that the “0” to “4” at the end of your age is fantastic, and once you hit the “5,” like 45, you round up. You are essentially 50 and everyone knows it. Second halves of decades go faster. And that scares the crap out of you.
So, 45. Halfway to 90. Ninety. Nine-ty. We all know how fast the first 45 years flew by, so, in the blink of an eye you’ll be that old person who has fallen and can’t get up — and it just wont seem that funny to you though.
And think of your body. If I take your body today and add another 45 years of aging to it, things are going to change. and let me tell you why…
Can you even imagine another 45 years of gravity having its way with your skin, fat, boobs… your junk? Yeah, that’s right, guys. Gravity ain’t helping you either. If it’s sagging now, it’s only going to get worse. It might be time now to start invest in some firm products or maybe just a good pair of spanx to lift everything up to wear it used to be.
Let’s not get caught up in the “45 is the new 30” nonsense. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t. Thirty was 15 years of youth-you-will-never-get-back ago. What you have gained in wisdom is now being cancelled out by your lack of memory. So, guess what? You’re just 45. Halfway to 90. A good 27 years past high school graduation. Probably two years away before you start getting all those ARP advertisements. But hell it does beat the alternative.