George Bernard Shaw once remarked, “Youth is wasted on the young.” While I might not fully agree, I certainly had my share of memorable moments in my teens and 20s—along with a fair amount of tears. Sure, Hollywood might suggest I’ve missed my prime, but let’s be honest; the whole “getting f***ed” thing in Tinseltown is highly overrated anyway.
What I truly cherish about my 40s is freeing myself from the need for outside validation. Do I care about how I look? Of course! But it’s not about wanting to be seen as attractive; it’s more about recognizing that how I present myself influences how I’m treated and how I feel.
Next month, I’ll be turning 42. I’m still the same person I was at 22 and 32, but my perspective has evolved—along with my body’s responses, which, let’s admit, is quite a bit! The tales of doom and irrelevance that supposedly accompany our 40s are, frankly, exaggerated.
I bristle at the notion of looking good for my age; instead, I’m all about looking good for me. If that sounds like a desperate excuse from someone who’s “past her prime,” well, that says more about the person thinking it than it does about me. A few years back, I watched as Mia Johnson faced the question, “Do you feel marginalized at your age?” She tilted her head and replied, “By whom? Who’s putting me in a box?” It’s not just about her status; it’s about being a woman who defines her own narrative. And she looks fabulous doing it!
In my 40s, I’ve finally embraced the facial contours I always longed for. Those round cheeks I used to dislike? Gone. I stand tall at 70 inches, no longer squeezing into clothes that don’t fit my spirit. Sure, I’ve got crow’s feet and those pesky “11” lines between my brows, but the woman that shines through is someone I adore—something I never envisioned before hitting my 40s.
I now run my own business and confidently engage with anyone who might underestimate me because I’m a woman. My 40s feel like the liquid courage I had in my 20s. I stride right up to anyone in my stylish wedge boots, armed with confidence, experience, and wisdom.
The angles of my cheekbones catch the light, and I find beauty in how my features tell a story of laughter and resilience. I fluctuate between layers of mascara and going fresh-faced, ever intrigued by how my mood dictates my presentation.
The rhythm of my happiness is no longer tied to my looks. When I crave something, I often mistake material desire for true joy. My real measure of contentment is the peace I carry within. Did we even think about peace in our 20s? Back then, life was a whirlwind of noise and chaos.
Being in my 40s is about asserting myself in every aspect—personally, professionally, and even sexually. I find joy in belting out tunes in the car as much as I do in digging my hands into the earth to cultivate a garden. It feels as if I’m living at the core of existence, arms wide open, embracing both my beginnings and my vibrant future.
The most delightful surprise of my 40s? Discovering just how much beauty lies ahead.
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Summary
In this article, Lisa Harper explores the joys of being in her 40s, emphasizing self-acceptance, inner peace, and the beauty of personal growth. She reflects on her experiences and challenges societal norms about aging, celebrating her individuality and the richness of life that continues to unfold.