40 and Fabulous A Piece of the Pie

Recently, I turned 40. Yes, I entered the decade of peri-menopause and anti-wrinkle cream and joined the ranks of all those middle-aged women who came before me. I am now, officially, old.

Those approaching the AARP years have laughed at me when they’ve heard me moan about my age. And, I suppose, that “old” doesn’t actually describe me. Still, I sometimes wake up stiff; my husband says I snore; and my back hurts when I vacuum. So, what can I say? I’m certainly not in my prime; that’s for sure.

Yet, I am all too frequently reminded of how lucky I am simply to be alive, something that quickly makes me feel terrible I’m even concerned with how I’ve aged. I’ve lost two friends this year, tragically, and two others in my life are dealing with cancer. In my professional life as a pediatrician, I recently diagnosed a young girl with Hodgkin’s disease, and I’ve seen terrible illnesses take the lives of innocent babies.

I, on the other hand, am healthy and active. My daughters are succeeding socially and academically, and my husband of 15 years still loves me like he did on our wedding day. Thus, why in the world do I feel the need to complain about having been born four decades ago?

The answer is fairly simple: I complain because I can and because everyone around me does the same. When I listen to the radio, almost every commercial seems to address this whole idea of aging and vanity. After 10 minutes of hearing my favorite radio morning show each day, I am chock full of information on weight loss, laser hair removal, Lasik vision correction surgery and day spas that promise everything from ugly vein removal to magic erasure of my cellulite. No wonder most of us past 35 have a complex! The media tells us that we need to spend thousands of dollars fixing our imperfections.

Hmmmmm……….

I constantly must remind myself that a few extra pounds, a bit of unwanted hair and an occasional varicose vein can’t actually affect my life. What will affect my life, however, is the negativity I feel listening to the media tell me I’m not okay. From now on, I’m turning off those stupid commercials!

I must remind myself on a regular basis that I’m blessed with family, friends and lots of successes, despite the fact I’m no longer a size two.

Age is just a number — as is my dress size. And a number can’t hurt us, I promise! I feel good. And I feel happy. Isn’t that what really counts?

So, for all you women out there who think you’re “40 and Fat” or “40 and Frumpy,” remember, no matter what the radio tells you, you are actually “40 and Fabulous!”

I just hope I’ll still feel this way when I really am old enough to join AARP!

by Sharon Dunski Vermont