“Don’t say that!” exclaimed the young shuttle driver when I mentioned my age. After enjoying a delightful glass of wine at dinner, I struck up a conversation during the ride to my hotel. “I’m 39, and I’m perfectly fine with it,” I assured him. When he asked for my high school graduation year and I replied “1993,” he gasped, “No way! That’s the year I was born!”
Currently, I’m traveling with a musical production of Dirty Dancing (yes, the one with the iconic line about Baby). My partner plays in the orchestra, and for the first seven months, I embraced the role of the oldest “merch girl” on the planet. We chose to stick together on the road rather than endure lonely nights filled with despondent Skype sessions.
Now that I’ve moved on from the merch position, I’m slipping into a rhythm of writing, reviewing yoga studios, and teaching as we journey across North America for the upcoming year. It feels refreshing to reclaim my somewhat adult self—albeit while living out of a suitcase and skipping gatherings where “shots!” are frequently called.
Over the past year, I’ve felt a palpable change—I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I definitely feel older. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it’s simply different. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from constant travel, but I recognize that I’m now firmly on the other side of my 30s. Here are a few observations I’ve made:
- People now refer to me as “ma’am.”
- I rarely get carded, and when I do, it’s because they’re checking everyone’s ID.
- Much older men have taken an interest in me—sometimes charming, other times not so much.
- I’m virtually invisible to younger men unless they’re looking for a “cougar,” which is quite off-putting.
- Twentysomething women often give me dirty looks, as if I’m a spoiled piece of food.
- My hair roots are becoming more pronounced every ten days; I’m considering embracing the grey.
- I have zero tolerance for bad food, poor wine, or unpleasant company.
- Speaking my mind is becoming easier by the day.
- Occasionally, I opt for sleep over intimacy.
- I’m out of touch with many celebrities on magazine covers at the grocery store, and frankly, I don’t care to know who they are.
Here are some additional reflections:
- I’m no longer seen as the cute yoga instructor. For the first time, I’m being taken seriously in my field without needing to prove myself constantly.
- I invest time and money in myself; I’m my best asset.
- Vitamin C serum and coconut oil have become my essential companions.
- I indulge in dessert—baking, savoring, and enjoying it without guilt.
- Quality alone time is essential. I treat myself to beach days, dinners, and movies.
- I’m learning to dismiss negativity; my time is too precious to waste.
- I take life at my own pace—there’s no rush. I wish I could tell my younger self to slow down.
- Daily chats with my mom are a non-negotiable.
- My standards for relationships have risen; I know my worth.
- Sleep deprivation turns me into a different person, so I prioritize getting enough rest.
I glance over at my 40-year-old partner and chuckle at how his salt-and-pepper hair adds to his appeal. He can roll out of bed, give his hair a quick tousle, and look effortlessly handsome. Meanwhile, I need some time to prepare before stepping out—think serum and moisturizer, not the Hollywood-level preening.
As I navigate this unconventional lifestyle and approach 40, I’m choosing to skip opening night parties, cut back on alcohol, stay hydrated, meditate, and remain true to myself. And that’s perfectly okay. I’m embracing my 39th year, and it’s a good place to be.
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Summary
Transitioning from 30 to 39 brings noticeable changes in perception and lifestyle. Embracing this new phase involves a shift in priorities, self-care, and a deeper understanding of personal worth. As one navigates this journey, it becomes clear that age is merely a number, and feeling vibrant at 39 is more than acceptable.