So, I went and turned forty. Forty is not so bad. At least it’s not 50. Well, that’s what one of my well wishers wrote, anyhow. Guess I’ll find out for sure in a decade or so.
To tell you the truth, the view from forty is not so different than the view from thirty nine. I guess I’ve been preparing for a whole year, so it didn’t hurt so much.
I was brave enough to spend my birthday in my bathing suit. The only thing worse would have been to spend it in my birthday suit (well, depending on the situation, I suppose…). It was actually kind of liberating, doing something at forty I wouldn’t dare do at thirty…or even twenty. Funny how time changes perspective. At 20 or 30, I sure had a better body than at 40. But I also had a grand fear of judgment. Something I still have, I suppose, though the things I care about being judged upon have shifted.
So I’m at this water park and honestly don’t have a worry about whether the kids are chuckling at the size of my rear end. What I do worry about is if my daughter is watching me, and seeing me light up every time she falls into my arms at the bottom of the slide.
That’s a birthday gift for both of us.
For the lighter side of turning forty in a bathing suit, check out Fat Forty and Frizzy at http://www.pajamamommy.net
