Well, today is my birthday. As a kid, of course I loved my birthday, but since about age 35 I have had a love-hate thing going with December 30. Having a birthday between Christmas and New Year’s eve has its upside and downside – the downside is obvi, but the upside is that the entire week becomes an ongoing excuse to treat myself to all kinds of over-indulgences. Given that I am increasingly intolerant of more than 2 glasses of anything alcoholic, I don’t tend to go in that direction, thankfully. It’s more about pedicures, trips to Sephora, cupcakes, and movies.
My 45th birthday was something of a disaster. I had it in my mind that – for all intents and purposes – my life was half over. It really hit me! I seriously didn’t want to get out of bed. What was most distressing to me at the time was the realization that I would not have another child. What is the reasonable response to this? Why, another dog of course! Several weeks later, we brought home Stella the Golden Retriever, younger sister to Sophie the English Mastiff.
Last year I hit the big half-century mark. The day itself wasn’t so special, but the days leading up to it were pretty interesting. A few days before Christmas, it was cold and icy. My husband was carrying a very large flat screen tv out to a car on the street in shorts and slippers, slipped on the ice, and broke two ribs and his scapula. Fun times. That night, my friend and employer came by for a drink, some apps, and an early birthday celebration. To my surprise and delight, he handed me a card containing 50 $50 bills! So generous and sweet. After going back and forth about whether or not to do some kind of big celebration with friends or a quiet dinner with my husband and daughter, I chose the latter. To top it all off, my husband surprised me with a new Fiat 500 Gucci edition. I don’t consider myself a car person, but I LOVE THIS CAR. In the end, it was a great birthday.
It’s funny how you don’t feel like you are getting older until one day, you look in the mirror, and holy shit – who is that old lady? I guess I should speak for myself, but the cognitive dissonance is disturbing. I feel the same (save the creaky joints and longer recovery periods from tough workouts) as I did at 32…why do I suddenly look my age?? I’m sure it happened gradually, but it seemed abrupt. I confess I have consulted with an aesthetician about injectables, but needles seriously freak me out, so that won’t be happening. (There is also the matter of dressing one’s age, which has become something I think about. Even if I had the legs, I wouldn’t wear a mini-skirt, especially without tights. This may be a longer conversation, so I’ll come back to it in a later post.) Moreover, I have a 19 year old daughter and would like to think I am a positive model for her around all of these issues. Peaceful acceptance seems to be the best path.
One of the topics I hope to write about here on occasion is my experiences with and reflections about getting older. I’m not super excited about it – don’t get me wrong – but I am ok with it. What choice do I have? I get very annoyed by tabloid stories about 40- and 50-something (female) celebrities, many of whom seem so desperately afraid of showing their age, or admitting to how hard they work to defy the inevitable. It’s kind of ridiculous. As my husband often says, we are all dying. Kind of morose, but it’s the truth. I’d like to think that the next decade will be better than the last. At least, it’s something to strive for.
Here is what I wore today for a delicious brunch with Rick and daughter Ro.
Burberry Brit jacket, J Brand jeans, L’Agence shirt, Rag & Bone boots