Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Countdown to 40

I don't know if I'm the only person out there who feels this way, but I couldn't care less about turning forty.

I keep waiting for something to kick in so that I'll either feel like taking to my bed for a month or drink myself into a stupor with my nearest and dearest friends to celebrate the fact that I've made it this long.

So far that hasn't happened.

I feel like I should be making pledges to get into better shape, making plans to travel the world in a few years (you know...before it's too late), or trading in my Momobile for a sports car.

Oh, wait.  I've already done that.

For the most part, I just feel this enormous pressure to do SOMETHING. And for someone as lazy as I am, that just may not happen.

In fact, when I traveled to Vegas for a friend's fortieth a few months ago I said, "Can I just count this as my 40th celebration too?"

Apparently not.

A couple of my friends asked me the other day what I wanted to do for the big 4-0, trying to come up with several ideas that would appeal to me.

"Want to go on a trip?"

"Eh.  Then I have to get myself ready and figure out what to do with the kids."

"How about a night downtown?"

"But it's so LOUD."

"How about a party at your house?"

"Then I'll have to clean."

After several more questions, I realized I sounded more like I was turning 90 than 40.  Because what I'd probably like to do is just sit in my own house with my own box of wine in my sweats (not pulled up to my chin, so that could be the difference) and contemplate life.

Or, more likely, watch a bunch of movies On-Demand.

In the next few days, I will be making the decision whether or not to move forward in a manner that society expects (or in a way that will be my friends' excuse to leave their own families behind and celebrate the fact that they've left their families behind), put on my big girl panties (otherwise known as Spanx), and party like a rock star.

Or I might just turn off my phone and celebrate my birthday in a way that won't involve uncomfortable shoes or an untimely fall where I might hurt myself.

I've got to be careful, after all.

I'm turning 40.