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Why Those Over 40 Should Embrace Their Age Loudly and Proudly
Remember the excitement of hitting that halfway mark in the year as a kid? You could finally say, “…and a half” when asked how old you were. When was the last time you did that? I turned 40 a couple of years back, and honestly, I was totally fine with it. More than fine, actually. Like many others in their midlife, I decided to embrace it wholeheartedly. I started running as a birthday gift to myself (don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my stats), and I exceeded my own expectations. I even took the plunge into therapy, digging deep in a way I hadn’t before. Oh, and I got my first tattoo.
I made it a point to celebrate publicly too. “Lordy, Lordy…” I posted on social media, following the customary birthday shout. I spent the day soaking up all the love and good wishes. I didn’t feel old at all, and I certainly didn’t look it. As I scrolled through updates from high school buddies and college friends, it hit me: most of us didn’t look old at all (well, with a few exceptions, but not many). They looked just like they should. At that moment, I realized that my generation is flipping the script on what middle age means. Forget the sad stereotypes of turning 40 with black balloons and “Over the Hill” banners. “Forty is the new 30,” a friend exclaimed on my big day, and I was all in.
But then, something strange started happening. I noticed my friends were quietly erasing signs of their ages from social media. Specific birthdates vanished, and references to graduation years disappeared. Those nostalgic #tbt posts shifted from “Can you believe this was 19 years ago?” to “Can you believe this happened at some point in the past?” It felt like we were slipping through some invisible barrier between “young enough” and “too old,” and I couldn’t quite figure out why.
“We’re vibrant, successful, and funny!” I told myself (and sometimes my friends) as a way to combat a creeping unease. “Forty is the new 30!” I insisted, trying to ward off that nagging sense of dread. Living in a college town didn’t help, either, as I aged while everyone around me remained in that eternal youthful bubble.
So why, at 40, are we expected to shy away from our age, whispering it like a secret instead of wearing it as a badge of honor? When my friends and I turned 41, there were no mentions of the number. “Aging backwards, right?” people joked in vague birthday posts or shared memes about how “Age is just a state of mind.” The truth is, age is indeed a number, but it should represent pride, not shame. My heart has been beating for over four decades, and in that time, I’ve experienced so much: two labors, a couple of hurricanes, questionable hairstyles, the ups and downs of college, and the joy and heartache of raising kids. I’ve navigated a childhood without car seats or bike helmets and have survived two car accidents, and countless challenges that life threw my way.
I know friends who have climbed mountains, written bestsellers, overcome personal struggles, achieved career goals, and launched nonprofits. Achievements like these take time—years and decades, in fact. Their driver’s licenses tell the story, even if they’re hesitant to show them.
I’m not perfect at this either. Last year, caving to the pressure, I hid my birthdate on social media, worried I might be the only 41-year-old left standing. But removing that “1973” felt unsettling. Was I ashamed? Not really. Would I want to rewind time? Nope, not at all.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not thrilled with every aspect of aging. I miss the days of infrequent hair dyeing, and those laugh lines? They’ve deepened. But you know what? I’m grateful for them. They’re proof of a life filled with laughter, mistakes, growth, joy, and love. So here’s to owning our age, loud and proud, complete with those cringeworthy pictures from our past.
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Summary
Aging should be embraced, not hidden. Those over 40 are redefining what it means to be middle-aged, and it’s time to celebrate our experiences and wisdom. We’ve survived challenges and achieved great things, so let’s wear our age proudly and loudly, complete with the memories that shaped us.