It’s a scene from the 2012 comedy film, This is 40—-husband Pete is assembling candles on his wife Debbie’s birthday cake and one of their preteen daughters has a question: “Why does it say ’38’ and not ’40’?”
“Cuz’ your mom wants to be 38, let’s not mention it again.”

And the rest of movie continues along those lines, following the day-to-day life of silly, self-indulgent men and women who are struggling as partners and parents because they are overly-preoccupied with the aging process. I guess it was good for some laughs here and there, but that whole ‘woe-is-me-I’m-getting-older-the-apocalypse-is-nigh’ mindset is not one that I live by. In fact, with another birthday just around the corner (Monday in fact), I’m treating the arrival of another year like a blessing rather than a curse.

Because This Is 40 was a relative box-office success, it seems as though a lot of people relate to the quandary, if nothing else. We’re all aware of how the physical process works and that time can seem kind to some and cruel to others. Society at large also makes aging doubly-hard on women, since we’re apparently expected to acquire college degrees, the dream job, a neatly-manicured home in suburbia and a camera-ready mate and children by 30-something…..or it’s all downhill from there.

I get that aging isn’t always fun or convenient, especially in a youth-driven culture that can make 40-pluses like myself seem close to obscurity, but there is nothing like becoming good and grown and applying that lived-through knowledge and experience to the daily dilemmas that the ‘young bucks’ are still figuring out.

For example, the older you become, the less you care what others think. I have also acquired ‘the gift of goodbye,’ which makes me step away faster instead of plead more when someone doesn’t isn’t treating me well. I’ve always been opinionated, which is probably obvious, but I’m now quicker to voice them aloud and demand the same respect that I show to others, even if we happen to disagree.

At the same time, it doesn’t mean that the inevitable is always easy when it comes to getting older. Gray hairs are starting to peek out, nerves are easier to fray and I’ve had to grasp harder for thoughts and memories that used to instantaneously appear. But I keep up the regular checkups, control the health factors that I can and rely on exercise and my ever-evolving profession to keep my mind and body as agile as they can possibly be.

With parent-teacher conferences, writing assignments and other ‘grown woman’ tasks occupying my schedule, I haven’t yet thought of how I’ll celebrate next Monday’s milestone. But whatever the plans are, I will likely marvel at how far I’ve come and the joys I’ve experienced. Unlike Ms. Debbie, who stares dejectedly in the mirror and quibbles with her husband about their bowel movements and diminishing sex life, I look forward to the texts, phone calls, homemade cards and notes from Nia and Layla will create and the feel of my son’s stubble as he pecks my cheek. A spa day with a mani and pedi would definitely be nice, but those indulgences pale in comparison to living with a man who still stares admiringly, is affectionate enough to embarrass the kids and often tells me that I’m still as beautiful to him as I was the day we met.

Life is about forward movement and maybe, just maybe, I would go back into my 30s briefly to rearrange a few things. But if I do get a birthday cake, my proper age will be what’s lit up in the candles…..because our children will be watching and I want them to see me glad about getting older, not dreading the prospect.