Turning 40? – “Holy Crap! Already??”

Yes. Here it is.

That moment in time when you aren’t sure whether to reach for a double scotch, or…….two more. That time when the mirror stops being your friend, or when you still haven’t purchased that BMW, or your chest has slowly slid into your gut, or your son has entered college twelve-hundred miles away. That awful time of “Who am I?” “Where am I going?” “Where’s my hair?”

How you got there seems like a short train ride along a long track of mortgages, job changes, pet deaths, daughters entering dreaded puberty, painting the house, putting a down-payment on a cottage, and not knowing who’s playing for your favourite team. Your school chum’s birthday card contains the words “over the hill”, and your older brother buys you an obscene gift. The boss holds a 15 min after-work party for you, out in the hallway. Your mother still tells you to get a “proper” haircut, and your Dad buys you two tickets to the basketball game and you hate basketball. You’ve always hated basketball.

You subconsciously move the clock to a further away place in the bedroom, and you spend $400 on a new suit you will wear twice. A molar needs a root-canal, and you find yourself unexplainably looking at Viagra in the pharmacy. You buy a riding mower for your stamp-sized lawn because ‘Bill’ has one. You take down the poster of Star Trek in your home office, replacing it with a photo of a 15-lb Walleye. You decide to buy a new Harley ‘Fat Boy’ your wife frowned upon getting, only to have neighbours finally complain about the ‘incessant noise’ two months later. The highway to work is now more of a parking lot than an early morning dragstrip, and you doctor tells you you have “moderately high blood pressure” and to exercise more.

Your belt needs another hole put in it, and you and your Texas Hold ‘Em buddies tend to play until 3 am, threatening divorce within your happy home nest. The raise you got was eaten up by inflation and the cost of hydro and taxes and your new ‘benefits plan’ contributions. And you start getting up at 3 am to pee.

Ain’t aging grand?

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