There are just 2 months standing between me and the fourth decade of my life. Up until a week ago, I was quite comfortable with what was ahead of me. In fact, I was looking forward to this milestone. Oprah is the woman who put me at ease. When she turned 50, she went on and on about how empowering it was. It was hearing her comments that changed my idea of maturing. (I choose the word maturing over aging because I don't like the connotations society has put on the word aging, especially where women are concerned.) So, what changed in the past week to shake my resolve? Maybe noticing my skin isn't as elastic as it once was? Perhaps it's the adult acne that erupts monthly? Oh, maybe it is the little lines around my mouth and eyes? No. No. No. It's my husband, that's what. There have been two different instances when he decided it would be a good idea to tell me the outfit (two different ones) I was wearing may be a little young for me. WHAT?!!! He tried to talk his way out of it. I suggested he stop talking. In my defense, I am 5'2" and weigh...well, I don't want to tell you, but it's not enough to allow me to give blood. So, I wear a 0 or a 2 depending on the brand. And, I can find things that fit in the girl's department but it's been years since I've done that. No, the outfits he was referring to came form real stores for grown-ups. I don't know, maybe he's expecting me to turn frumpy at forty. Perhaps he's looking for more poly-blends to appear in my closet come November 27. Dare he suggest I start wearing "mom jeans"?
Honestly, I'm quite comfortable in my clothes. Maybe I'll buy some new duds that look less young but that I still like. But I can assure you this...frumpy at forty? Forget it!