As I approach the milestone of 40, I find myself reflecting on the journey thus far. It’s a time when many people pause to consider their experiences, share insights, and reassure others that 40 is merely a new 30, or that age is just a number. When I actually reach that age, I may well add my own thoughts to the digital landscape. Surprisingly, I haven’t felt as old as I am, nor have I been particularly troubled by the passage of time. But today, I have some pressing questions for the universe.
Why Am I Still Dealing with Acne?
First and foremost, why am I still dealing with acne? At nearly 40, I have two children, a mortgage, and finally, no student loans hanging over my head. I’ve started to notice wrinkles and probably a few gray hairs as well (if I squint hard enough). So, why does the universe insist on decorating my not-so-teenage face with zits? It’s a bit like seeing an elderly woman with exaggerated implants—it just doesn’t sit right. Yes, I know hormones are at play—but it hardly feels fair. It wasn’t fair at 16, and now, acne in my late 30s—even if it’s infrequent—is downright unjust.
The Elusive Concept of Personal Privacy
I also wonder why personal privacy seems to be an elusive concept in my life. Growing up, I shared a room with my sister and lived in a house bustling with five other family members. As a teenager, I longed for solitude to brood over the annoyances of adolescence—like braces, unrequited crushes, and how I could possibly meet my celebrity crush, Ryan or maybe even Chad. But now, whenever I attempt to find a moment of peace, I’m met with a chorus of voices, even in the bathroom. “Are you peeing? Can I see?” Nobody warned me that achieving privacy as an adult would involve traveling miles from home, without any devices, and even then, I’d feel guilty for taking that time for myself. So, the next time your teenager complains about a lack of privacy, remind them that it’s just a step toward adulthood.
Why Do I Still Care About Others’ Opinions?
And why do I still care about others’ opinions? I was under the impression that by this age, I’d be immune to such thoughts. I’ve learned to embrace myself and recognize that not everyone will be my friend. Still, I can’t help but wonder why another mother isn’t speaking to me. I think we’d get along splendidly! Is it just human nature to care about the thoughts of others? Shouldn’t we be honest with our kids about this? It would be helpful to explain that while they’ll eventually learn not to obsess over it, the tendency to care will likely remain.
The Irony of Adulthood
Then there’s the irony of adulthood. As a teen, I yearned for the respect that comes with being treated like an adult. Yet, now that I am one, being seen as my age often feels like a burden. I assumed that being treated like an adult would feel empowering and sophisticated, but it can be overwhelming instead. So, when your teenager exclaims, “Why won’t you treat me like an adult?” consider flipping that script. Tell them you want to be treated like a teenager again: confined to your room, stripped of technology, and maybe even sneaking a bottle of wine. It’s all in good fun, right?
Why Can’t I Drink Like I Used To?
And last but certainly not least, why can’t I drink like I used to? Back in my college days, the idea of sipping Merlot at a dinner party or enjoying a cocktail sounded delightful. But now, just one glass of wine at dinner can lead to a face-plant in my meal due to sudden fatigue. There seems to be a direct correlation between the number of drinks I consume and the recovery time needed—days, not hours. It’s a harsh reality.
Do I wish I could return to those carefree, uncertain days? Absolutely not. But I do wish someone wise and youthful had laid it all out for me. Now, where are those acne pads when I need them?
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Summary
As I near 40, I grapple with unexpected challenges like lingering acne, the quest for privacy, and the unshakeable concern for others’ opinions. Adulting isn’t what I envisioned, from the pressures of being treated like a grown-up to the harsh realities of drinking. Yet, despite these hurdles, I embrace the journey as I navigate this unique phase of life.
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