Sometimes at night, just before I drift off to sleep, I sense something moving under the bed. On my way to work on some mornings, I glance in the rear view mirror and see a movement in the backseat… but nothing is there. At various points throughout the day, usually in the shadows, I sense foreboding movement while everything is stationary. The presence I feel more and more as time goes by is the dreaded age of 40 creeping up on me.
Turning 30 sucked. Turning 30 was kind of like the true end of childhood. Turning 30 meant I had to start being responsible. Turning 30 meant that it was time for everyone under 30 to start looking at me as an adult. Turning 30 sucked.
Turning 40 is going to MAJOR suck. Over the last 10 years, my body has started to sag; not that I didn’t sag in the first 30 years… I’ve been a sagger for most of my life… it’s just that the sagging has become much more noticeable over the last 10 years. I used to think man-boobs were funny. Man-boobs are most definitely NOT funny. Gray hair has taken up a permanent residence on my head… and on my chin. I used to think it was kind of cool when I’d spy a new glistening white hair amongst my brunette locks. Yeah, it ain’t cool anymore. My 30s have been a slow decline in body and spirit. I really can’t believe that my 40s are going to be better. Turning 40 is going to MAJOR suck.
No good can possibly come out of turning 40. There’s a guy I work with who just took the 40 plunge. The dude used to be really active, you know, riding his bike all the time, going on hikes, not the kind of guy to sit still. Then he turned 40… and everything changed. He turned 40 and shortly thereafter he got The Gout. Seriously, The Gout! Now he walks slow and funny. He isn’t active anymore… because of The Gout. He spends a large portion of his time sitting around with his gouty foot elevated griping about The Gout. Something that everyone who has to turn 40 can look forward to: getting to the age where the old-person ailments start kicking in… The Gout, Rheumatism, Shingles, Arthritis, Cirrhosis, High Blood Pressure, Heart Disease, Diabetes, Dropsy, Dementia, Alzheimer’s… oh my, what good times lie ahead! And that’s just the diseases. That doesn’t include all of the fun stuff like hair on the back and coming out of the ears, liver spots, wrinkles, weakening strength, hunching over, using a cane or walker, losing hearing, and more and more and more! Of course, turning 40 gets you just a little closer to that wonderful senior discount at Perkins (yippee).
I’m already beginning to act the part of a 40-something in certain ways. After a long day at work, sometimes I’m just too lazy to lose the black work socks in exchange for white socks. So, yes, sometimes you will see me mowing the lawn with shorts, tennis shoes and my stupid black socks up to my knees. I swore I would never go there, but there I am. I always wondered how a man gets to that point that wearing black socks with tennis shoes and shorts doesn’t seem dorky. I’ve come to realize that, yeah, we know it’s dorky, but we just don’t care. In my case, I’ve been married for almost 15 years. It’s not like I give a crap about what the cute young women driving by think of me while I’m mowing the lawn. They weren’t that interested in me 20 years ago when I was single and less saggy, so why would they glance twice at an almost-40 sagging dude… the color of my socks isn’t going to make a difference.
In college, I used to imagine how my life would turn out. With my business degree, I was going to take the business world by storm. By the time I was 40 I was going to be raking in six figures in some high powered position with some major corporation. Well, 40 is less than 6 months away, I ain’t making close to six figures, and my position is about as high powered as a Nerf dart gun.
I think this is the point where the mid-life crisis kicks in… a major benchmark (40) is approaching and those stupid goals (money and power) haven’t been reached (and most likely never will be reached). If only I could afford a stupid convertible sports car. Guys going through a mid-life crisis are supposed to get a stinking sports car, right! Yeah… I’m screwed on the sports car thing. At least I get an affair with a hot woman half my age, am I correct? Mid-life crisis guys at least get the young hottie, right? Oh yeah, too many hotties have seen me mowing with those stupid black socks up to my knees… CRAP! Did I mention that turning 40 is going to MAJOR suck?