Hello 40

I turned 40 a week and a half ago. How the fuck did that happen? Pretty sure the last time I checked I was like, 11. But whatever.

I actually feel pretty ready for this thanks to my friend Mary Charlotte. We worked together at my very first ever “real” job post grad-school. I was 23 and didn’t have much in the self-esteem department. I managed to complete my higher education with good grades, but I was often been prone to impostor syndrome (yes, it's actually a thing). You know, I’ll get some sort of success but deep down feel like I don’t deserve it. If “they” found out how little I really know, I would be exposed as the fraud I really am. That general sort of thing. Oh, and this came on the heels of some pretty severe anorexia as a teenager (more on that another time). You get the gist – hot mess.

So I had this job for which I felt completely unqualified and didn’t think too highly of myself. Enter Mary Charlotte – 39, confident, cool, smart, beautiful, etc. Seriously. She was once in a punk band. She and another co-worker, Vick (in her early 40s), were friends and, by some strange stroke of luck, they liked me enough to let me hang out with them. As archaeologists, our job took us throughout the state to survey and dig, so we had a lot of time to hang out.

As the three of us became better friends we spent more non-work time hanging out too. Some of my favorite memories are going to a concert featuring nothing but an array Apache hip hop bands (who knew, right?! The Apache community can seriously rock) and going to Mary Charlotte’s documentary film premier (she eventually ditched archaeology to pursue film). However, most of the time we hung out talking on MC’s porch. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the core of her strength/confidence/bad-assery (bad-assness?) was that she didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thought of her or what she did. That concept was foreign to me, especially as I was starting a new career in a relatively new town while dating a hot new guy . I worried what others thought. I was afraid of making mistakes, sounding “stupid”, coming across as awkward and uncomfortable as I felt inside.

The day Mary Charlotte turned 40 I asked her how she felt. She looked me straight in the eye and said “Shannon, I’ve never felt sexier in my life.” What?! I remember when my mom turned 40. I was 12 and I thought she was ancient. Don't get me wrong, my mom is awesome, but just thought of anybody being FORTY seemed REALLY OLD. Those “Over the Hill” cards and gag gifts made a lot of sense to me – because it really seemed all downhill from there. It never occurred to me that it would be a pleasant experience. That you could feel BETTER about yourself then when you did as a young, fresh-faced 20-year-old. I see feeling good…but SEXY? SEXIER THAN EVER?????????? WTF?

All of a sudden 40 went from seeming like a death sentence to being freedom. Vick and MC thought it was hysterical that I was the only 23-year-old on the planet that couldn’t wait to be 40.

Flash forward a decade and a half and here I am – 40. That hot new guy has been my husband for 14 years. I’ve given birth to two babies. I changed jobs a few times but have been at the current one for 8 years. I’m a little bigger and grayer than I once was, but I get it. I get what MC meant. I know I’m not perfect and still have plenty of demons to face, but, little by little, I’m caring less what other people think. And It. Feels. Awesome.

I’m sick of society “shoulding” on me – telling me what I “should” do, how I “should” look, what I “should” eat.

What should I do? Whatever the fuck I want.
How should I dress? However the fuck I want.
What should I eat? Whatever the fuck I want.

I am slowly realizing that the key to feeling sexy is not about the size of my pants or the color of my hair or the smoothness of my skin. It comes from the freedom of not judging myself by others’ bullshit standards.  I’m ready to take a blowtorch to the “Over the Hill” section of the damn Hallmark store because here I am and have never felt more full of life and ready to take on new challenges (I owe my mom an apology).

Every time I DON’T give a fuck about what anyone else thinks, I get a little more freedom. Freedom feels sexy. Damn sexy. And it doesn't matter what you, or he, or that person over there thinks.

So here’s to 40. I’ve dubbed the next decade my “I Don’t Give a Fuck” 40s.  I can honestly say I’ve never felt sexier in my life.

Mary Charlotte – rest in peace.