The moment I’ve been dreading since I was 18 and saw “When Harry Met Sally…” for the first time will be here in two short weeks.
SALLY: And I’m gonna be 40!
I don’t WANNA be 40! I’m not ready yet. There’s so much I haven’t done and may not have time to do. Like maybe have a baby. We’re cutting it close to the wire on that one and I still can’t make up my mind! Why did the good Lord create women to best give birth at the age of 14?? Can you imagine “Teen Mom” in Biblical times? Actually, it’d be the opposite – JTV’s (Jesus Television) “30-year-old Mom.” (My goodness! I can’t believe that old hag is having a baby! At THAT age?!)
But I digress. 40 is middle age to me. I don’t have children. I don’t own a home. I’m “between engagements” right now (read: I don’t have a ‘real’ job)… I’ve been in therapy off and on for 20 years and I’m still totally mental! Okay, that last one was expected and actually, being mental is good for the creative process. Tortured artist and all that.
When I was 14 and of good birthing age, I decided I was going to be a young mom and be married and pregnant by 21. By 21, I was too drunk for that. Oh, and I was living with my parents.
And you know I just don’t buy into the whole “40 is the new 30” B.S. 40 is still 40 and black is still black. Or is pink the new black? I just don’t know what to expect from fashion this season.
In addition to being the mother of a college student or two by 40, I planned to be very thin, very wealthy, happily married, working as a singer or actress, and living in a large home with housekeepers and chefs who would be considered family. Can you believe NONE of that happened?? Ambition counts for something and a true princess such as myself expects these things to fall into her lap. Still waiting for that winning lottery ticket to waft down from the sky.
So I’m going to be a Negative Nellie about turning 40. To me, it’s NOT fabulous. Here’s where you come in, my three faithful readers: I want you to come up with as many F-words (besides the obvious one) as you can. Fill in the blank: “40 and F_______.”
Make me laugh. I need cheering up.
SUSIE: And I’m gonna be 40.
SUSIE: IN TWO WEEKS!!
Whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, call me “ma’am.” I refuse to ever become a “ma’am” no matter what my age.
(I have now entered a self-imposed moratorium on any phrase referring to the upcoming birthday upon which I will enter the 5th decade of life.)