I just looked at the calendar and realized that 40 is exactly 6 months away. I can remember as a kid being excited about getting past July 9 each year because it meant I was closer to my next age than my current one, and like most kids, I liked the thought of becoming another year older.
I can't say I feel terribly depressed about 40, it's just weird. Weird because, hello, last time I checked I was waiting the requisite three days to wash my hair after a perm, buying Outback Red sweaters with my babysitting money and putting my tape recorder next to the radio so I could record "Life in a Northern Town" the next time it came on.
Also, weird because I helped throw my mom's 40th birthday party, in between studying for finals my freshman year of college. I can't see Lauren taking charge of that for me, but honey, if you're reading this, mommy really likes her some dirty martinis, so stock up on the vodka and olives.
Also, when the fact that my next birthday is a "big" one came up at work, my boss's assistant politely said, "30?" Uh, no. Then she said she never would've guessed I was 39. I don't think she was shocked because I look so much younger than that, but because I act far too immature to be 39.
Oh, and I took Blobby's Virtual Age test...turns out I'm actually 44.2.