I’m that person who turns birthday celebrations into a week-long extravaganza. My cousin used to throw wild parties like that, and it somehow brings me closer to those memories. So, hitting milestone birthdays has never phased me. I’ve lost no sleep (other than the usual), shed no tears over reminiscing about my “glory days,” nor have I spent extra time buried in a tub of ice cream, pondering if this is it for me. It’s just a natural part of life.
However, in the past couple of months, our little family has experienced quite the whirlwind: we sold our house, downsized to a camper, lost one job, left another, picked a new job, moved to a different state, unenrolled our child from public school, and started homeschooling, all kicking off the day after my husband turned 34. This has made me acutely aware that I’m edging ever closer to 36. Yes, I’m the oldest in our household—we’re all about shattering stereotypes.
How did this happen?! I still feel like I’m 17, navigating Friday night games and planning my weekend. How did I morph into one of those moms at the mall whose jeans look like they were molded from silly putty and who sport haircuts that defy gravity? This can’t be my reality. Yet, I catch a glimpse of myself in store windows, and it’s undeniably me.
Here’s my list of reasons why aging isn’t as glamorous as my younger self envisioned:
- My Skin Is a Horror Show.
As a teen, I had flawless skin, but it seems my mid-30s have come with a vengeance. I’m dealing with more hormonal breakouts than a 90s Clearasil ad, and what’s this? Moles? Shoulder freckles? My Friday nights now involve a glass of wine and frantic searches on Pinterest for natural remedies for skin tags, while WebMD has me convinced I’m on the brink of disaster. Makeup? Forget it. I wouldn’t know how to cover this up, and I have zero interest in looking like those celebrities whose faces seem frozen in a state of perpetual surprise. How long until my hands look like grandma’s, with knobby knuckles? - Dressing Is a Challenge.
Seriously, if I could, I’d live in yoga pants and hoodies. And let’s be honest, I’ve done more grocery shopping and napping in them than actual yoga. I feel too old for stores like Maurice’s with their rhinestone-studded denim. The median age at Belk is 60, and I’m not ready for elastic-waisted slacks and festive sweaters. I thought I found salvation with LuLaRoe, but their leggings transform my thighs into a Magic Eye poster. Do I dress how I feel inside, or accept that the 20-something me has faded into the past and prepare for my AARP card? - What Does Success Mean?
As I approach 40, friends are either advancing in their careers or stuck in dead-end jobs, and it’s hard not to envy their carefree lifestyle. At this age, many wonder if this is what they’ll do forever or if they should leap into a new life that brings genuine happiness. This is why so many turn to direct sales—trying to find fulfillment while paying the bills. I’d love to get paid for writing or chatting, but that call hasn’t come. So here I am, stuck in a cycle of Facebook invites to Thirty-One parties and jewelry I’ll lose eventually. Downsizing to a tiny home was a brilliant decision, but we still grapple with financial questions every month. - Whose Children Are These?
As a child, I envisioned my future kids as polite twins who said “Yes, ma’am.” Fast forward to reality: my actual children are less than angelic. They’re adorable little monsters. When my daughter throws her sippy cup for the umpteenth time, splattering milk everywhere, and gives me that innocent smile, it takes all my strength not to consider launching her out the sunroof. Who decided we could manage to keep tiny humans alive while navigating our own existential crises? - What’s Next?
My husband and I waited longer to start a family, so while peers are wrapping up their parenting journeys, we’re left wondering if we should have more kids or settle into the idea that we’re done. Retirement planning? Is that even feasible? Will Social Security exist when we retire? I feel like I should be wiser than my 20-something self, yet all I want is to get to bed at a reasonable hour and watch my favorite shows. - Are Those Really My Parents?
In your mid-30s, you start echoing your parents’ words, and suddenly realize they were right all along. “Wear a coat or you’ll catch pneumonia.” “Did you even shower?” And those boring dinner stories you once dreaded become phone calls you look forward to as you seek their advice. It’s a bizarre twist of fate. - I Just Want to Netflix and Sleep.
My mid-30s feel like living inside a meme that’s both funny and depressingly true. Yes, I run on coffee and wine. While many portray the perfect family online, I’m simply trying to manage a messy household while dreaming of uninterrupted time to catch up on my shows. - Target Is My Sanctuary.
Honestly, all I crave is a peaceful day spent at Target, sipping Starbucks, and escaping reality. Shopping has morphed from a chore into a blissful retreat where I can zone out. How did I just spend $237 without even picking up the toilet paper I came for?!
As I glance at my reflection, I remind myself that although I may not look like the idealized version of myself from years ago, I am resilient. I’ve endured, overcome, and grown stronger. If this is the path to 40, I’m embracing it without looking back.
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Summary:
Aging into your mid-30s can feel like a rollercoaster ride filled with unexpected challenges and realizations. From grappling with skin changes to navigating the complexities of parenting and career, it’s a humorous and often chaotic journey. Embracing the realities of life, while seeking joy in simple pleasures, is essential as we approach the big 4-0.