Instructions For Being 40

I turned 40 yesterday.  

I have always liked my big, solid, round-numbered birthdays, and generally I have tried to mark them in some meaningful way.

When I was 10, I wrote a letter to myself at 20.  It included all my likes and dislikes, my take on world events (as I understood them), a critique of  cultural trends, what I hoped I would be like at the end of the next decade, and a list of questions for my future self to answer.  I enclosed a smattering of coins, a few postage stamps, a lock of my hair, and a bookmark I had gotten on Mackinac Island. 

I lost it somewhere between high school and college, so I wrote another one (to myself at 30) when I turned 20--full of all I had learned out in the big world, as well as earnest wonderings about what married life would bring, how many children I would have, where I would live, etc.  I also included another list of deep, probing questions for my older self, and...

...I lost that one too, so for my 30th birthday I drew a circle around the event by a) getting a tetanus booster and b) taking an evening to ask myself all the deep, probing, questions I would normally write in a letter...and then lose.  

Glorious, immediate, self-evaluation!  No more waiting a decade to measure growth and deficiency.  


It worked so well that I trotted the idea out again for my 40th birthday.  For this particular self-eval, I decided to go out running.  

This brings me to yesterday.  

It was sunny and 43 degrees with very little wind.
Honestly, after a winter of clouds and negative numbers, it felt positively balmy, and so as I rounded the bend before the first big hill, out of sheer joy I did a spontaneous grand jete split jump followed by what I think was a kick-boxing move of some sort--not sure--but the whole thing took me off guard.  

I was partially blocked from the view of passing cars, so I don't think anyone saw my accidental display of joie de vivre, but it certainly started off my session with a bang (and incidentally, a pulled hamstring).  

I have always been prone to random leaping, twirling, and dancing, but somehow today it jangled.  

Something was missing, and that something was youth.

After my episode, I began to wonder if I should come up with a list of "Things That Are Unseemly, Unsightly, and Undignified for Persons of Advanced Age"--sort of a quick reference guide for the newly middle aged.

So I did.

Number one on my list: Avoid spontaneous physical outbursts of happiness or excitement which involve jumping, spinning, or high stepping in public places.

Here are a few more things I think 40 year olds should steer clear of:

2) Skipping, galloping, trotting, prancing, and mid-air scissor kicks

3) Wearing anything that reminds you of a princess  

4)  Frolicking and cavorting

5) Blue eyeshadow

6)  Pig tails

7) Shopping in the junior section of a department store (unless it is for your daughters, and even then it probably isn't a good idea)

8)  Wearing shorts

9)  Doing cartwheels

10)  Dancing (unless it is ballroom or you have had independent verification of your skills.  Ask your children.  They know.)

11)  Trying on prom dresses unless 
           a) it is for laughs
           b) you are trying to scare someone
           c) you have landed the part of Miss  Havisham or Baby Jane Hudson in your local community theater 

12)   Teeter-totters.  Swings are still OK if accompanied by the appropriate degree of gravitas.  Playground slides--maybe.  But there is simply no dignified way to teeter-totter.  

13)  Rip-sticks.  This is not so much an issue of decorum as it is safety.  When your cerebellum gets old, it develops pockets of rust and acrimony, or as the youngsters like to say, "glitches", which can upset your balance, leading to embarrassment and hip-replacements.

14) Naval and tongue piercings/nose-rings.  Question: Do I really need to mention this?   Answer: Have you been to Wal-mart lately?

15)  Jump rope.  When you notice that half your body parts are still going up when you are coming down, it is time to hang it up.  Plus, it is just too much to expect from your dear, faithful bladder.  Be kind.

16)  Hair bows.

17)Beatboxing

17)  Riding the penny pony at the entrance to Meijer.

Speaking of Meijer, I am reminded of an observation I had the other day as I fought back the temptation (yet again) to take a running start and ride my shopping cart down the cereal aisle. 

We 40 year olds are caught in a prison of respectability.  You young folks can break into spontaneous song at Applebees if you feel like it.  You can dance down the sidewalks, play tag in the clothes racks at JC Penney, and give each other piggy back rides on a whim.  The world sees you cavorting and it smiles at your spirit and marvels at your energy and beauty.  

In other words, you are still cute.

If we middle-agers cut those capers, we'd get shock and disgust.  We'd get clucking tongues and disapproving whispers.  "So homely and horrible!  Such wanton disregard for propriety and good taste!" 

We'd get shrieks of alarm and covered faces. "Oh, it burns!  Avert your eyes!"


In short, we are not cute.

But here's the good news, fellow mid-lifers!  In just forty more years, we'll be cute again!

We'll be able to run-and-ride our shopping carts down the aisles at the local Piggly Wiggly all we want.  

Why?  Because we'll be safely covered by the gentle, good-humored expectation of senility which abounds among the general public whenever they see an old person. It is one of the hidden perks of grannyhood: instant forgiveness for all things quirky and quaint.  


I can't wait!  

As an octogenarian, I plan to careen through the meat department on the back of my grocery cart as often as possible, one foot pointed delicately behind me, blue hair flying in the wind.  

I will sing show tunes to telemarketers and IRS agents who try to confuse me.

I will wander through the woods in a white dress and a bonnet every spring.


I will do the tarantella as I am waiting in the Social Security office.  

I will stomp in puddles, make snow angels, and wear rhinestones while I garden.

I may even have a T-shirt made for the occasion.  "I'm not odd...I'm addlepated!"  

The trick is knowing when you've reached that magical age, which is why I plan to continue these once-every-ten-years self-evaluations.   

Meanwhile, I may look all sedate and respectable, but that's only because I'm 40 and I don't want to scare anyone or be admitted for observation.  

Until further notice, I will put away my repertoire of awesome dance moves.  I will curb my urge to sing in elevators.  I will master my inclination to wear as many frills and bows and flounces as I can fit onto the front of a shirt.  My impish (and frankly hilarious) impulses will lie dormant for a season.

I will wait patiently, make lists, and gather materials.  Yes, just a few more decades and...BAM!  

You'll see me out on the trail in a sparkly gold  baseball cap, orange tennis shoes, and a tutu.

And whenever the spirit moves me (hips permitting), I will indulge in a joyfully unabashed grand jete;)