They Say It's *My* Birthday...

Today I officially become middle-aged.

45.

I caught a bit of the movie "Terms of Endearment" the other night, and the scene that struck me was an innocuous one and not at all any of the famous scenes from that movie. Not Shirley MacLaine shrieking, "Give my daughter the shot!!!" or Jack Nicholson smirking that Jack smirk, or Debra Winger dying, saint-like, from cancer, but rather a dining room scene where Shirley MacLaine's character is celebrating her "50th" birthday.

There are three men, suitors, I believe, and there is one other woman at the table. (Since I read the book I know the backstory of all of these characters, but the movie chose to exclude them, so I will, too.) It's Aurora's birthday and they are celebrating. They toast to her 50th birthday and one of them says that she looks young. She simpers and preens and beams until one other man says, "You turned 50 two years ago. You're really 52. Why are you trying to hide it?"

The thing that struck me was that Aurora did indeed look kind of old. The way she was dressed, her hair, the way she held herself... all matronly trying to look younger. I can't remember what year that movie came out, but fast-forward to today: 50 is still HOT. And smart. And wise. And usually kind. At least women are. Men are usually freaking out and dating women half their age, and while a few women do the same thing, the women I know sometimes sit around and rue the lack of available men.

But one thing these women do not feel is old. They don't shave two years off of their age. They don't look matronly. They kick ass. They feel vital and special and are looking forward to the second half of their lives more eagerly than they did the first half. Most stupid decisions are behind them, and they learned from their mistakes and grew... so I guess where I'm going with this is that I don't feel old, either.

Smarter, sure.

Wiser, of course.

I'm kinder and more willing to cut everyone, including women half my age, much more slack. I don't see those women as competition. I just see them as half as smart as me, half as assured, half as confident, in essence: half the woman I am now.

I'm not all that grateful for the trials I've been through. Most of them did NOT make me a better person; neither did they make me bitter or hateful. But they were personal trials, all the same, and shaped who I am now, for better or worse. Mostly for better, but that's because of the way I responded to the trial rather than the trial itself. I did learn to rise above (mostly) what was thrown at me to prevail. Mostly. I'm sure that I still have much more to learn. And that life will throw more trials at me, but 45 years of living on this earth taught me a lot and the biggest lesson is (corny as it sounds) that there is no one I can depend on except myself. Not a spouse. Not siblings. Not family. Not friends. All of those people have been there for me in the past, but not all together and not when I really needed them.

Just me.

But I'm grateful for the women who came before me. They are paving the way for me now in all ways, the way that I will pave the way for women behind me. They look great at 50, 55, 60 and up. They all smirk at my obsession with 45 being middle-aged. Age is a state of mind, again corny but true. All of these cliches are turning out to be TRUE. Argh.

But the biggest one: that women are somehow less womanly as they grow older--is just wrong. Our bodies may change, but that just means our brains get bigger and our hearts grow, too.

So as I sit here, getting ready for my full day of birthday fun, I guess I'm not that worried about turning 45 today. I'm still here: against ALL odds. And I'm still me, but improved. And no matter how many times gorgeous, sexy men break my heart, I will keep putting myself out there, because the experience matters. Breaks me down sometimes. But it matters. All of it.

I just hope that, when I get to 52, that I don't feel the need to lie about my age.

I'm sure I won't.