Which I’m completely okay with, except for the fact that as of this Friday I can no longer, while feigning distress over my perpetual singleness exclaim “… and I’m gonna be 40!!! Someday.” 
I’ve been calling myself 40 for a while. See, I jumped the gun, “Blah blah blah AND I’M FORTY!” fake sobs
I think once April hits my fake sobs become real sobs or something.
(Happy birthday.)
:: checks DianaG’s pic in Arnold’s gallery ::
You have nothing to worry about, ma’am. 
I didn’t like the months leading up to 40 one bit. Termanally ill besides. But once over the hump (one day), my 40s actually were better than my 30s. I’d been told so and didn’t believe it. Once over it was a breeze of course.
I didn’t like turning 50 one bit. For months before hitting 50 I hated it. But once again, once over the hump (one day) was done, it was a breeze… just like turning 30 had been.
No biggy at all.
Like climbing the first big hill on the roller coaster. The tension builds, but that tension is over and the ride really begins then.
The mirror is the only wierd part. And other people react to me as though I had something to do with that mirror. It keeps changing, and people’s behavior around me keeps changing. while I do not. “Mam,” doesn’t sound right. It just doesn’t.
The thing is. We all have another terminal illness. And we’re all in it together.
Older people like to say, “Oh you’re just a baby!” when I tell them I’m 51. Meaning … you’re not old, you just think you are.
I feel just fine.
I’ve got until June. Ten years ago, about this time, I was starting to really freak out over turning 30. I’m not feeling that at all this time around. 40 will be fine, I think.
I’ll be 30 in a year to the day. I’m already dreading it.
Young puppy! I’ve got ten years plus change on you, Diana.
Wishing you a good day, a good year and a great life!
Happy Birthday!
Me too. I’ve always been inclined to round up, and I joke that it’s because I’d much rather have people think I look damned good for forty than okay for 35. 
Honestly, I don’t mind getting older, I actually feel pretty good about it. It just struck me funny this morning that I wouldn’t be able to use that quote anymore. Of course, neither can Meg Ryan.
Thanks for the birthday wishes, guys.
Probably my favorite line from that movie! ::hands DianaG a kleenex::
I didn’t get married until I was 41 (the day after my 41st birthday, actually). I married a Doper. Troll for a husband around here. You could do worse.
I’ll be hitting the half century mark in May. :eek:
I’m not sure whether ‘troll’ is the right word to use here. Although ‘trawl’ isn’t that great either…
You’re sweet, but while I’ll admit to the occasional twinge at a new grey hair or the effects of gravity on my 40 year old ass, the “single” part I’m entirely good with.
Happy half century!
Pfft! Just a punk kid. But Happy Birthday, young 'un!
Well, my best friend said her 40s were better than her 30s. Besides I’m 40 in 11 days, and I have to agree.
Where I use to work a maintenance worker had a bumper-sticker on his tool cart which said something like, “I’m not 40. I’m just celebrating my 22nd anniversary of turning 18”.
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve stressed at all about a birthday. That said, I’m a week away from 43, and I’m unduly bummed that I will no longer be The Ultimate Answer.
Not to worry. 40 is the new 30.
One of us.
One of us.
40 can be good: I had a wild fling with a much younger woman when I was 40. 45 is good: I met the love of my life when I was 45. 50 is good: I embarked on a new career at age 50. 60 is good: I retired at age 60. Bottom line: it’s all good.
40 always seemed so far away. And now it’s getting farther away every day.