Operation Fabulous by 40

I turned 38 in November. Getting older never bothered me until this year. I was fine with 30 and even threw myself a big party. I wasn't married, didn't have a steady career path, rented a house with a friend...not exactly where I thought I would be at 30. But who cared? I was having fun. When I turned 35 I joked about getting old but it wasn't really an issue to me. At that point I was married, a mom, had a house, had a career. Life was good. And we were still planning on having Baby #2. I was in a great place. Birthdays #36 and #37 were a blur. Insignificant.

So why, at 38, did I suddenly have this weird anxiety about my age? Panic started to set in. Perhaps because I was now in my "late 30s"? Perhaps because the kids at school often gasp and say, "I didn't realize you were that old"? Maybe it's because I realize I will be 53 when my son graduates high school. Was the number 40 really that bad?

Or maybe, just maybe, I realize how quickly time is passing and I see doors closing - no, make that slamming shut - every day.

My entire life I have been a dreamer. There were always things I wanted to pursue -- not that I ever really DID any of them. I had a "Bucket List" of life goals. I always figured I had time. Some examples:

1. Journalist - Ok, I did that for a while but it didn't pay the bills too well. And I worked in Glen Burnie, Maryland...not exactly a news hotspot. It provided some interesting stories down the road but I knew I couldn't afford to work my way up to Katie Couric status. A $21,000 salary in the DC/Baltimore/Annapolis suburbs wasn't easy.

2. Travel - Heading to Savannah and Hilton Head Island were not exactly my ideas of "traveling". I was thinking more along the lines of London, Morocco, and New Zealand. As a kid, we were always going places but in the U.S. I wanted to do more. I wanted to see the world.

3. Marry Rich - Ha. Ha ha ha ha. Oh this one is so superficial. But honest. I envisioned marrying a handsome, affluent, preppy breadwinner. We would have an amazing house in someplace other than my homestate. He would be a professional, an athlete, a great dad, a romantic. I wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to. He would find me smart, sexy, and the perfect wife. (Oh God, I can't stop laughing...)

4. Write A Book - Isn't this on everyone's bucket list?

5. Perfect my Tennis Skills (aka Be in Amazing Physical Shape, as a result) - Back in high school, I was the tennis girl. I lived and breathed tennis. I was good, too. Not amazing, but good. I was offered a chance to walk-on at the University of Delaware with a good shot at making the team. I didn't do it. My knees were really messed up and required surgery (which I also never did). I didn't want to go to 6am practices. So I quit the sport I loved most. After college I came back to my hometown and started dating the local tennis pro. He was 16 years older, never been married, no kids. All we had in common was tennis. He got me to a playing level that was even better than I was in high school. I was one of the top women in the state. But just like everything else, I quit that too. I have since tried to get back to that level, but it hasn't happened. Maybe next year.

My life didn't turn out the way I expected. I am an English teacher, married to a history teacher. We travel to Maine every summer and take day trips to DC or Philly. The most "news" I ever cover is re-posting a status on Facebook from the Today Show. My tennis skills have dropped from a 4.5 rating to an embarrassing 3.5 level. I have written a few chapters of a few books....but they never get anywhere. And lastly, I am FAR from being rich.

I am not complaining at all. Trust me. Life is good. Very good. But as I get closer to the big 4-0, I see that my goals have to change. And it is a wake-up call to realize that half of your life has passed already. The goals you had when you were 24 are not the goals you can realistically have now. Even if I wanted to pursue a journalism career, it wouldn't happen the way I wanted. Oh sure, I could work for a newspaper making $25,000. Realistic? Nope. I could go back and get my Master's in journalism but who would hire a 40-year-old woman when they could hire a 22-year-old hot shot? Door #1: CLOSED.

Rich hubby? That door closed on February 24, 2007. And I am ok with that. Do I occasionally dream about winning the $600 million PowerBall? Absolutely. But my hubby is who I was meant to marry. He is smart and professional and handsome and preppy. He's a great dad and an athlete. We live a good life.

Tennis? The last time I picked up a racket was a month ago when I went out to hit with Sissy. Before that, it was when I was coaching the local high school team a year ago. Competitively speaking, I would not dare step onto a court now because it would be pure embarrassment. I'm 30 lbs heavier than I should be (I have no tennis skirts that even fit), my knees are likely to give out at any moment, and my body probably couldn't twist into the tennis positions it was used to oh so many years ago. And if I did make it through a match, I probably wouldn't be able to walk for a week afterwards.

There's still time to travel, yes, but realistically who has the money or time? Two college tuitions loom in the future, mortgage payments to make, and work tends to get in the way. Those exotic locales may not be visited until I hit 65. And even then it is doubtful.

All of these thoughts have been going through my head for the past few months. I can hear doors closing all around me. Don't get me wrong: I am extremely grateful and blessed. My life is good. But different.

If I were to talk to a shrink, they would probably tell me that the reason I am depressed about 40 is because we have decided that we are done having kids. Hubby is adamant that we are good with two. I am 99% ok with it. I can't get to 100% because that means another chapter has officially ended. But it has. And that realization is smacking me in the face.

So now I am trying to embrace my fourth decade and focus on ME. I decided that I have two years and, instead of falling into a pit of despair, I am going to make myself fabulous. The goal is to be more fabulous at 40 than I was at 25. (I was going to say 20, but at 20 I was still in college. Life wasn't real then.)

As I get older, I feel myself changing into a woman who is letting herself go. I've gained weight, but who cares? I am not on the market anymore. Hubby loves me. But I'm falling into the "mommy jeans" category. Not that I actually wear Mommy Jeans, but my mentality is there. Yoga pants on the weekends, very little make-up, no fun dates or nights out. I am all MOM. I am conservative, careful, dull, lifeless.

I see all of these amazing women in their 40s, 50s, and 60s. I envy them but I never really thought I could be one of them.

Until Operation Fabulous by 40 took hold.

I think I see myself going downhill and it scares me. I want to grab myself by the ankles and pull myself back to the summit. And when I get to that summit, I want to be able to stand up there and shout, "I AM FABULOUS!"

The basic premise of this mantra is: to look and feel better/healthier/stronger/more confident than I ever have in my life. I want to be a HOT 40-year-old. A healthy 40-year-old. I want to be noticed, not dismissed as a "middle-aged woman".

Major Hurdle #1 is happening on June 25. Stay tuned....