As I nestled into my couch, clad in my trusty yoga pants, ready to binge-watch my favorite shows, it hit me: it’s Saturday night. And I couldn’t care less about being anywhere else besides my living room, a stark contrast from what I once deemed the pinnacle of the week. This realization is my clear sign of adulthood—or, more specifically, that my twenties are well behind me.
I can almost hear my 20-year-old self laughing hysterically at my current state, wine glass in hand, gearing up for yet another episode of a reality show. But honestly, my 40-year-old self couldn’t care less about that chuckle over my cozy attire. I genuinely adore being in my forties.
Back when I was a teenager, the thought of turning forty was terrifying. I vividly recall my mother throwing my father a surprise birthday bash that celebrated his “Over The Hill” status, complete with grim decorations and a cake featuring a cartoon of an old man struggling up a hill. That evening, I vowed that I would never become an “old person” at forty.
Throughout my twenties, I made grand promises to myself about what I would never do at that age. I was determined to avoid being the kind of woman who spent Saturday nights on her couch, tied down by responsibilities. I dreamt of traveling the globe and swore I would never drive a minivan. Oh, how the tables have turned!
My younger self would be astonished to know that I’ve stopped obsessing over the scale. Size 4? Not missed at all. A size 8 allows me to savor a glass of wine and still fit into my clothes. She’d be shocked to hear that I assert myself professionally and genuinely don’t care about the opinions of others when I do.
She’d be amazed that I’ve run seven marathons—something I couldn’t have imagined in my twenties. But motherhood, along with a desire for a little sanity, has certainly motivated me to lace up my running shoes.
My younger self would likely roll her eyes at my spacious SUV and the carpooling routine I’ve adopted. However, she’d be pleased to know that I still crank up the volume whenever a Bon Jovi song comes on the radio—some things never change.
She’d be comforted to hear about the enduring love I’ve found after years of dating men who didn’t appreciate my worth. This love isn’t about fancy dinners or romantic getaways; it’s about tackling life’s messes together, like cleaning up after a midnight child-induced crisis, and knowing he’s got my back.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it: she’d find my underwear drawer pretty laughable. The lacy options have been replaced by practical essentials. Sorry, Victoria’s Secret; my 40-year-old self is living her best life in comfy Hanes.
My younger self would feel relieved to know that I’ve achieved a level of success that means I can indulge without worrying about bills. However, she’d likely be appalled to learn that these days, a “splurge” equates to purchasing a new dishwasher—let’s keep that between us.
She might be disappointed to find out I’ve only made it to London and haven’t seen much else of the world. She’d probably raise an eyebrow if I shared that my most memorable trip has been a road trip to Texas with my kids. It may not be the Eiffel Tower or the canals of Venice, but we played games and made memories that mean everything.
Most importantly, my younger self would realize the value of cherishing every moment with family, especially my father. She’d be heartbroken to learn that he’s no longer with us.
She’d be relieved to hear that Ross and Rachel end up together and irked about the conclusion of Seinfeld. And I suspect she’d be just as enthusiastic about watching The Bachelor on a Saturday night if she were here.
If she were to be completely honest, my 20-year-old self would probably admit that my 40-year-old self isn’t so bad after all. She’d also be pleasantly surprised to learn that confidence in the bedroom only gets better with age. The fear of turning forty would fade as she recognizes the incredible journey that lies ahead.
While I’d gladly make room for her on the couch, she’s likely too busy planning a night out dancing. That’s totally fine; I’ll be ready to welcome her when the time comes.
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In summary, reflecting on the past reveals that life in your forties can be fulfilling, filled with love, laughter, and unexpected joys. Embracing this stage can lead to some of the best years yet.
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