Birthday - Hopeful or Harrowing?

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Lordy, Lordy Karla's turning 40. Damn. I don't know if you can say Lordy and damn so close together, but that's where I'm at with this impending 40th birthday. Doom usually comes after impending, and to some degree, that's how I'm feeling. Somehow, I had envisioned being in a different place by this landmark in my life. And if I can be quite honest, I'm feeling some type of way that this is where I've landed.

Don't get it twisted, my life is the stuff movies are made of. Broadway shows, celebrity friends, VIP access and all that. But so what. Who am I amid all of it? Other folks know who they are, but what about Karla? Was this all I had to offer the world? I've spent 20 years doing basically the same job that never quite manifested into a full-blown career. I spent 20 years between two men, and even though they asked, I never could love either enough to stand before God and say I do till death. Damn.

One thing I always offer is transparency and sincerity. I'm not one for pity parties, but I am one for the truth. And the truth is, I'm not one bit happy about turning 40. As my 30s got closer to 40, I began to hear things my tender ears never heard directed at them before, like mammograms and fibroids, increased risks of this and that but decreased chances of fertility. Perhaps 40 is reflective for everyone, and if not, I'm just fine being the only one.

For all intents and purposes, I am entering the second half of my life, and I'm mad as hell that I didn't do more with the first half. Yeah, yeah, yeah, spilled milk, water under the bridge, can't turn back the clock, I know all of that. But it still does nothing to alleviate my angst. My girlfriends and my guy (of the week) all have big ideas about how I should celebrate this birthday, but none of them have a clue as to how I feel, nor are they over 35. <Sigh>

My momma taught me that if I can't always be happy, I can at least be hopeful. They are saying 40 is the new 20, right? Technically, I'm a cougar, like the media has glamorized on TV, since the guy of the week is 28. I mean, 40 shines, right? To affirm my acceptance of this stage, I got a new driver's license photo. As an act of defying this stage, I lied on the same license and put my weight down as 120. Well, 180 is the new 120, right?

Signed, hopeful.