Once again, it was that time of year—my birthday. It comes around every year, whether I’m ready or not. This year, I hit the big 3-8, officially stepping into my late 30s instead of just floating in my mid-30s. It’s a notable shift, even if it doesn’t carry much weight. It means I’m on the brink of 40, and not in some distant future, but just two short years away.
My late 30s are like a final pit stop before the big 4-0. I still remember my dad’s 40th birthday when my mom threw him an “Over the Hill” bash, complete with signs labeling him “Older than Dirt.” By the time I reach 40, my youngest child will still be in preschool.
But before I get too caught up in the idea of being an “old woman,” I remind myself that there are plenty of positives to aging. I reveled in my 20s and stumbled through parenting in my 30s. Now that I’m in my late 30s, I see exciting things on the horizon. Here are eight compelling reasons to fully embrace this age:
- I can chuckle at high school girls mimicking my ’90s style. It’s amusing to see them in chokers, combat boots, floral dresses, and mini backpacks. The best part? The grunge fans sporting plaid tied around their waists. Clearly, we didn’t look ridiculous enough to deter them from repeating our fashion missteps.
- I’ve wrapped up the baby-making phase. My kids are still little (5 and 2), but I’m officially done with pregnancy. Hooray! No more OB appointments, dietary restrictions, heartburn, or feeling like my body isn’t mine. No more round-the-clock newborn cries or sleepless nights. Sure, there are still diapers to deal with, but they won’t last forever. Soon, we’ll embark on a new chapter of family adventures as my little one grows.
- I’ve discovered my best look. My body has transformed over the last six years with pregnancy and recovery, but I’ve learned what works for me. I rock a push-up bra (because let’s face it, my figure needs a little help) and form-fitting tops that showcase my waist. I gravitate toward blues and greens, which complement my red hair. And when it comes to that hair? I’ve finally found the right shade (orange-red, not purple-red) that appears naturally beautiful.
- I’m savvy about what doesn’t flatter me. While I adore cigarette pants and T-straps, I’ve accepted that they’re not my friends. My thighs and hips simply don’t mesh well with skinny pants, and my ankles have made it clear they’re not happy in T-straps either. So when I see cute outfits in store displays that I know won’t work for me, I no longer feel tempted. They’re just not for me.
- I’m less preoccupied with the scale. My weight has fluctuated quite a bit over the past several years, and I’m okay with that. In my younger days, a mere three pounds would send me into a panic, subsisting on nothing but veggie burgers and broccoli. Now? If I want to shed a few pounds, I simply focus on healthier choices without the stress. I exercise more, cut back on nightly ice cream, and I’ve realized that most people don’t even notice if I gain a pound or two.
- I recognize the silliness of social media. Don’t get me wrong, I love my online life. However, I’ve learned not to take it to heart when a “real-life” friend doesn’t engage with my posts or unfollows me. I share a lot about my kids and parenting, which may not resonate with everyone. I also don’t get envious of others’ social media highlights; I understand that what people share is often a polished version of their complex, messy lives.
- I no longer feel the need to impress anyone. If I choose to lose weight, it’s solely for my own well-being—not to fit any mold. I wear what I enjoy and parent the way I feel is right. Sure, compliments are nice, but I’m not overly concerned with others’ opinions about my life. Either you accept me as I am or you don’t; I’m too tired to pretend to be someone I’m not.
- I’m thankful I’m not in the public eye. I once dreamed of fame, believing I was clever and captivating enough to deserve it. I envisioned writing bestselling novels and becoming a literary sensation. When that didn’t pan out, I considered a reality show showcasing my adventures in New York. Thankfully, none of that happened. I’ve had my share of embarrassing moments that my family doesn’t need to witness. Fortunately, the bulk of those moments escaped the lens of digital cameras and the reach of social media.
Ultimately, that’s the best reason to embrace being 38: Most of my cringe-worthy photos and awkward dating stories are only available to the world through my carefully curated retrospective. I’ve gained perspective, and I’m grateful for the person I’ve become as I approach 40.
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In summary, turning 38 can bring about a newfound appreciation for life, shedding the insecurities of youth and embracing the wisdom that comes with age. It’s a time to celebrate who you are and the journey ahead.
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