As I near the big 4-0, I find myself in disbelief. Forty years! This milestone often prompts introspection, with many sharing their wisdom on why 40 is just another 30 and how age is merely a number. When I actually cross that threshold, I might add my voice to the digital chorus. Truthfully, I’ve never felt as old as I am, nor have I been particularly bothered by aging—until now.
Today, I have some burning questions that linger from my youth:
Why, at nearly 40, do I still struggle with acne?
I’m a mom of two, I have a mortgage, and thankfully, my student loans are behind me. Yet, here I am, spotting wrinkles and possibly even gray hairs (if I could see without my glasses) while still battling breakouts. It feels unjust to have acne on a face that’s decidedly beyond the teenage years. I know it’s hormones—aren’t they always the culprit?—but it seems so unfair. I endured the trials of my teens with the belief that I’d outgrow it. Now, having acne in my late 30s—however infrequent—is downright irritating.
Why is there no privacy?
I grew up sharing a room with my sister and living in a busy household with five other people. As a teenager, I craved solitude to brood over the trials of braces and crushes on celebrities like Rob Lowe. I thought adulthood would grant me the privacy I longed for. Instead, I find myself subjected to an audience even during bathroom breaks. “Are you peeing? Can I see?” they shout. No one told me that achieving privacy as an adult requires a complete escape from the home—without a phone, a blindfold, or earplugs to drown out the calls for attention. Even then, guilt creeps in, ruining my fleeting moments of solitude. So next time your teen complains about a lack of privacy, remind them, “Tough luck! It’s part of growing up.”
Why do I still care about what people think?
I was under the impression that as I aged, I’d stop caring about others’ opinions. I’ve learned to embrace my true self and accept that not everyone will like me. But deep down, I still wonder why that other mom isn’t talking to me. I think we’d get along great! It seems human nature to care about others’ perceptions, even if we try to convince ourselves otherwise. Shouldn’t we acknowledge this to our kids instead of shaming them for it? They’ll eventually learn not to dwell too much on it, but that impulse never truly disappears.
Why did I ever want to be treated like an adult?
Ah, the naivety of youth. Now that I’m an adult, I realize that being treated like my age comes with its own set of stresses. I thought it would feel empowering, but it often feels overwhelming instead. So when your teenager exclaims, “Why can’t you just treat me like an adult?” consider flipping the script. Suggest they treat you like a teen—demand they send you to your room, turn off all technology, and just sit and relax. A little nostalgia never hurt anyone, right?
Why can’t I handle alcohol like I used to?
In my youthful days, I fantasized about sipping Merlot at dinner parties and enjoying cocktails with friends. Yet, the reality of adult drinking is harsh. A single glass of wine can lead to me dozing off mid-meal. There’s a cruel correlation between how much I drink and how long it takes to recover from it.
Do I wish I could go back to the carefree days of my youth? Not at all. But I do wish someone had been honest with me about the realities of aging. Now, I’m left to apply acne treatment in front of my ever-watchful audience.
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In summary, approaching 40 is filled with unexpected challenges that echo the struggles of our youth. From acne to privacy issues and everything in between, it’s a reminder that growing up doesn’t mean leaving all our worries behind.