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Age: Is it Just a Number?

Many of us women dreaded the number thirty. We were scared about aging, messing up, being unsuccessful. For me, my thirties were the best years of my life, and when that big ol'number 4-0 started approaching, I thought it was all over.

Hell fire and brimstone (or the grim reaper) would show up at my door unannounced suddenly and and I would have a new date for the night.

But this is really what happened...

I can remember the day of, well, the night before actually. Or maybe it’s currently a blur, because I don't know if you know this, but once you have hit that milestone, that place between youth and death, you forget things. Literally. Remember those times your parents used to tell you about losing their car keys and needing a buzzer or whistle to find them? You laughed then, but now? Yep. You can't remember squat!

The night before, I was still thirty-nine. My friends decided to take me out to celebrate at a local bar called Zinc. Zinc is a classy joint. It's dark, mysterious, perfect. In fact, so perfect you can pretend you're any age. Think Blanche DuBois played by Vivian Lee in "A Streetcar Named Desire." Yeah, she liked dark places too, not to reveal her true age.

I was wearing black leather pants, if you can believe it, and I felt incredible. Sexy. Vibrant. My girlfriends were dressed also in black and we were like smokin' hot vixens waiting to prowl. I was the life of the party. Everyone wanted to be me. It felt that way anyway. I am sure they wanted the free drinks. I couldn't have felt more alive with laughter and stories and gossip and flirting. It was honestly one of the most fun and memorable experiences of my life.

The next morning I woke up with a serious hangover. We're talking pounding headache and the urgent need to vomit. Yeah, another thing. When you're forty, you lose all inhibitions and if you think you are waking up to that treasured nick name you were dubbed at twenty (formally known as Swiller) ... dream on! It just isn't happening.

After last nights shenanigans, I had thought maybe the actual day would be just as fabulous. If you can, imagine Amy Schumer in that silly comedy when she hits her head and is suddenly attractive.

Yet in reality... no phone calls. No men fighting over me offering me drinks. No happy birthdays, and that singing messenger I was secretly hoping for? The Australian stripper? He did not knock on the door.

That's right... crickets. The sound you hear at night when there's nothing else out there. The sound that is so loud, it drives you nuts. Then, not even that. Not even crickets.

Nope, just me. My rats nest of a hair-do, my headache, and last night's make-up, smeared across my now forty-year-old face!

So I did what any newly 40 year old would do and that was run to the mirror and make sure there were no drastic physical changes in my appearance.

Ever notice that women over 40 have unnatural looking hair color? Like purple? I guess it could be better than grey. Some shades of purple are very attractive on women nowadays and it's a pretty popular color if mixed with red undertones.

Mine always turns a shade of orange when I color it myself, so I have to spend an obscene amount of money at the salon (money well spent) and regardless if I ask for caramel brown to match Beyonce's golden brown locks, I always end up with a shade of red, too.

I will bet that when I am a woman in my 50's when I go to color my hair it's going to end up with a ridiculous shade of purple, just to spite me.

Seriously, no later than 2 weeks after my 40th at least 4 white hairs popped up. They were brightly glowing like birthday candles as if to say, Happy Birthday Bitch!

But I mean really, ultimately there is no hiding it and we will all be eventually blinded by the white.

We will have greying white hair and jowls.

Yes, jowls.

Those odd little droopy things that suddenly appear on either side of your chin. They are like kankles, but on your face. It isn't pretty. You look like a hound dog who just got back from a neighborhood brawl, minus the drool.

Yeah, I am not quite sure how I am going to manage this new decade of change, but similar to the ever popular HBO show, Game of Thrones "winter is coming" and so are the body aches, the fine lines and wrinkles, the crazy dates (if you are single) the sudden odd body smells (lawd no! not yet..) and the brain fog and forgetfulness.

Yeah, it's coming and here I am... here to let you in on all of it.

That is, what I can remember!


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