Things You Don't Understand About Your Forties
Things You Don't Understand About Your Forties
That your mother never told you about.
Grown Ups Know Everything, Right?
As a child, I always thought that by the time I was in my mid-forties, I would have all my shit together. That I would know everything about life, have paid off a house, possess a decent car and even have a grandbaby or two.
I'd spend my life peacefully reading books, training dogs, and going out for a coffee in the afternoons with friends.
It’s not how I imagined it would be.
I'm sat in my desk chair, surrounded by bits of paper, two pairs of headphones, a plastic toy pound coin, and my turtle ornament collection all perched on my desk, staring at me with disapproving looks.
I’m dripping with sweat despite the fan blowing directly at me, deciding whether I am ill, having a hot flush, or it's just hot outside.
I’m guessing this is part of the joy of being in your mid-forties, in the middle of summer? I can’t recall my Mum or my Nan having to fan their underboobs …
Other things I don't understand:
Having grey hair, wrinkles, and teenage spots all at once.
Clothes that keep getting smaller.
Young people who seem 15 but are actually in their 20s.
Young people who are in their 30s and look in their 20s.
Tiktok.
Twitch Streaming Gamers.
Realising your Nan had some brilliant ideas about baking and cleaning.
How the house needs cleaning more often than you ever noticed before when you were younger.
Actually cleaning it … and then enjoying your nice new cleaning products - Purdy and Figg* - as they smell posh, and cover up all the other weird smells that emanate from your son’s room brilliantly.
Boobs growing at long last, 25 years past puberty, when you no longer care about them.
That weird hair that keeps growing back.
Lay ins are better than late nights.
But somehow waking up ridiculously early is also more acceptable than it used to be.
Funeral invites get more common than christenings, and people you know are dropping like flies.
Second or third marriages are cool.
A campervan of one's own is goals.
A shed of one's own is not a bad thing either.
Underboob sweat.
Dogs are your best friends and “understand” like none of your human buddies ever could.
Your partner agrees. In fact, you both prefer the dog to anyone else you know. Including your kids.
The Dog knows this and can play you both like a fiddle.
We all agree the cat is a complete #/*! (but we love him anyway, and he also fares well in life.)
Naps are great.
What even is that smell?
Other people drive like they are on a racetrack. Especially in Tesco carpark.
Your legs dance by themselves at night, when you are in bed trying to sleep. It’s like heckin Riverdance at 3 am. More so if you have a partner who joins in … But it doesn't count towards your steps?
Your sudden love for a walk. But jogging is wholly different and terrifying because... bladder.
You've invested in a Shewee and you are not afraid to use it.
Your hormones make you randy as heck, but your female production line has all but given up and caved in through your tuppence.
You use words like “tuppence.”
“Good” shoes are hard to come by.
Cath Kidston is the new black.
Joking aside, my forties have been kind to me so far. I met a bloke who will put up with me. I've not murdered anyone yet. My health is bearing up. Could do with being a bit more financially stable, and a holiday wouldn't go amiss … but I've been lucky so far.
I prefer it to my twenties and thirties, because I’m at an age where I get away with more stuff. There is less judgement, and more acceptance, that I’m just an eccentric, batshit crazy old bird. If I do something daft, I just blame hormones. Easy.
Are you at your midlife yet? How are you finding it?
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28/07/2024 - Day three of the MMC challenge to write every day and show the world where it takes me!
Warm ‘N’ Fuzzies,
Freya xx
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