Sunglasses Always Fit

I recently turned 41, or “forty-fun!” as I have been (probably obnoxiously) calling it. My birthday fell on an unfortunate Monday this year. However, seeing as I am a fifth grade teacher, and birthdays are EVERYTHING when you are a kid, it’s been marked on the calendar since the first day of school. I have been telling my students I was turning 25, and they are young enough that they aren’t sure what age looks like, therefore many of them just believed me. However, some guessed I might be “sixty? Seventeen? Are you older than my mom? How old is my mom? How old are dinosaurs?” We will blame cultural differences and my lack of solid sunscreen practices on that one. 

In the past, there has been a temptation to ignore my birthdays. I would get heavy blues leading up to the day, seriously considering ignoring the event altogether. For my thirtieth, as an example, I had just returned home to California after breaking up with my boyfriend who I had moved to North Carolina for, with the expectation we’d be getting engaged and married soon. I was so distraught about turning 30 and not being married that I convinced my sister we should go to Puerto Rico for the week. I spent the day sitting in a kiddie pool on a roof, sipping margaritas and watching the Xfiles on Netflix, completely ignoring the day. In my mind, so many of these birthdays marked another year where I wasn’t achieving what are considered the “normal” milestones for my age. 

In the past, I would play a comparison game where I was the only athlete and the only loser and because I was also judging the event, the harshest critic. I couldn’t ever win as I looked at pictures on instagram of matching jammies on Christmas mornings/my friends coaching their kids’ sports/engagement photo shoots/“omg my husband is so sweet and doesn’t have social media but here is a two minute montage to all his spontaneous loveliness.” 

And I would get caught up thinking that people might be looking at me and whispering about how I wasn’t yet married, didn’t have kids, was flitting all around the world taking selfies with landmarks and eating and drinking and making friends and having fun through all my child-bearing years and yeah educating the youth but like what is she even DOING with her life?! Far too much glitter and far too many costumes for any respectable woman her age.

It is quite possible that people I went to highschool with thought that. I’m sure a lot of people I grew up in church with were saying that. To which I say . . . shrug emoji and that’s why I don’t church anymore.

But PR trip aside, I would always get past those blues, stop playing that dumb game, and I have been known to throw a shenan and then a shenanigan. So here’s my actual advice about how to celebrate your birthday in your forties, or at any time, really:

Lean into it and let people love you. Plan something nice for you and for the people who love you. Sometimes you might be uncomfortable with something, but remember that the people in your life who love you want to be there for you, and you actually feel really good if you let them. If you give people space to celebrate you. To give you the flowers or make the specific cake or suggest a dinner out. To say the nice words you might need to hear that your family isn’t saying, that your partner isn’t saying, that you don’t know you need to hear. Treat yourself like you would treat your sister or your best friend.

Lean into it and let people love you. When it’s easier to pretend that no one loves you, they never have, they never will, so you want to dig a nest into your bed of blankets and pillows and take-out menus a la Bridget Jones, it’s probably best practice to take a shower and pick a time and a place and let people love you. 

Lean into it and let people love you. When it’s easier to hate yourself and compare your life to the completely curated and filtered and censored version of everyone else’s highlights-only reel you see on social media, I recommend that you wake up on your birthday and find the sunlight and take an unfiltered picture to capture the moment and say “this was me at 41! I woke up happy and moisturized and unbothered and with a backpack full of Cheetos and Oreos” because I guarantee in a few years, you will look back on that photo when it comes across our virtual reality screen and you will say “hot damn but I was a snack.” As philosopher Moira Rose taught us, take the nudes. 

Lean into it and let people love you. When it’s easier to get depressed that there is no one in your life to plan something for you, plan exactly what you want to do. For example, you could book a venue that does black-light chalk parties mostly for pre-teens, and buy a million pieces of candy, and braid pigtails and make a crazy playlist of your favorite songs, and invite everyone you love, and have a wild ass night. And then you can rewatch the scant collections of videos that night (because we were having too much fun to remember our phones) whenever you have a bad day. 

When it’s easier to say “yeah, it’s just my 41st, so who even cares,” let someone who loves you say “but we should do something!” Stop being a bore, pick a place you want to try, let go of the “oh but it’s a bit pricey/out of the way/I’m not sure if” bs and make the plan. Set up the Whatsapp chat and set the day and the time and book it. 

Lean into it and let people love you. When it’s easier to shy away from the attention, let it happen. I’m at a point in my life where I know I most likely won’t get married, won’t have kids, and so I won’t get to force my beloveds into scanning a registry for the cheapest items and then attending an engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette, wedding, baby shower, baby’s birthday parties, etc. It’s just me and my life, my journey, my milestones from here and for forever that can be foreseen and shouldn’t I be celebrated? Shouldn’t money be spent on me? A nice party? Attention? A destination if I want it? Let’s get dressed up, take cute pics, let me pick the music, and go have an evening.

I wish the world was ready to do math this way. I propose a new math – Math that says hey – your life choices are valid and celebrated here. Pick a theme, I’ll put the cute in charcuterie. Let’s do this. It’s effing good math.

To recap: how do you celebrate birthdays in your forties?

It’s so good to be alive. Remember that your life is so worth celebrating.

Remember that you are loved and people want to be around you. Eight billion people on the planet right freaking now – and there’s no one like you! Remember that birthday calories never count, and time together is the gift. Remember to take the pictures.

Oh – and add frosting, glitter, and karaoke. Those are my final ingredients. 

I wish you every birthday. And I hope you send me an invitation. I RSVP “heck yes.”