Forty Shmorty

It happened at midnight. I officially left my thirties behind. I’m not that thrilled about it. I hate to be a cliché, but I’m so going there…you got it…I’m having a major mid-life crisis. It’s been going on for a while, but has gotten more intense recently. This particular Birthday is not my favorite. I have definitely been assessing and evaluating the first 40 years.

I’m feeling a little…I don’t know what….

Restless. Yes, I’ve been restless. I’ve been feeling the need to do something. Something monumental to mark this milestone. Dye pieces of my hair blue. Get a tattoo. Go to trapeze school. Get a “Helix” piercing. I’ll let you run wild with that one….

No. Can’t do it. I’ve got to tell you. It’s a piercing on the top of your ear.

You like? It's so totally fake. I did send it to my Mother for shits and giggles. She went apoplectic. Priceless.

I talked about this “restlessness” with a lot of people over the past couple of months. And, whenever I brought up my desire for a tattoo…well, holy, stop, drop, and roll…people had some major visceral reactions. The majority, were AGAINST the tattoo. Let me be clear here. I wasn’t asking for opinions, but was happy to hear them. Their views really helped me with ironing out some important parenting issues.

For example, a lot of people asked, “What happens if Sam or Jake want to get a tattoo or get one when they’re older?” My response was, “Well, as long as my kids are happy, productive, and treat people with kindness I’m okay with them getting some ink.”

While my suburban brethren sat in shock, I continued, “I mean, if that’s the worst they do in their lives, then I’m getting off easy.” I’d get some answering head bobs communicating their tacit agreement on that point.

Of course, Mark was also very against the “tatt,” and, unfortunately, his is the only opinion that matters. So, when he said, “I will be P-I-S-S-E-D if you do it,” I immediately offered to inscribe his name on the inside of my wrist. You know what he said to me?

He said, “Well, that will be a problem for your second husband if his name isn’t Mark or if he spells Mark with a ‘c’ and not a ‘k’.” Damn. And, double damn.

It no longer matters now anyway. In an ideal world, I would pop a Xanax, do a shot of tequila, and visit Addicted To Ink tomorrow to celebrate my 40′s with some inky body symbol, but alas, it’s not to be.

Once my girl, Kris, suggested that I’ve got a solid 15 years to rock it until it becomes a hot wrinkly mess, I was pretty done. She makes a good point. I told her, “Maybe, I’ll just get some nips and tucks here and there instead.”

Kris gave me the thumbs up and a, “Thatta girl.”

I may go for the “Helix” though. We’ll see.

The other night I opened my fortune cookie and this is what I got, “In youth and beauty, wisdom is rare.” I almost fell of my chair. Hey, that rhymes.

But, that fortune was pretty accurate. Because, with age does come wisdom. The wisdom that getting older sucks. It sucks.

And, I will “not go gentle into that good night.” I will nip, tuck, inject, SoulCycle like crazy (meh), spend a fortune in facial products, and do what I have to do to look as young as I feel. I feel about 20, which I guess is pretty good since 40 is the new 20 now, anyway.

So…forty shmorty.

Contributor Sharon Lippmann, writes about her "so called suburban life" as a proud resident of Scarsdale, NY. She is a writer, blogger, mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend and one sassy chick. She loves exploring the interesting, strange, perplexing, vexing, ridiculous and funny that life offers up frequently. Enjoying more of what she has to say about nothing, and, well, everything at mydailypill.com .