September is here.
Which means it’s officially the first of my four favorite months, my official birthday month, and in approximately 28 days, I turn 43.
Forty-three.
And before anyone says, “Omg you’re still so young!” understand that I’m aware that 43 is the new 30, but my neck, lower back, and attitude have not gotten the memo that we are still young and fun. I appreciate the optimism, though. So…let’s be realistic.
I don’t feel 43.
I actually feel 83, but I hope I look 33. I do feel somewhat younger during the daylight hours than I do the evening hours. Once 7 pm hits, I’m suddenly one foot in the grave and someone should call hospice. That said, in honor of officially entering my 43rd birthday month and the best season of the year, I thought I’d acknowledge some of the things I am self-aware enough to know that I can no longer do at my current age.
Not because I’m old, obviously but because my body and personality have both established some boundaries that I was unaware of until I was aware of them.
I cannot stay up late
Anything – and I mean anything – past 9 pm and I need two business days to recover. It doesn’t matter what it is, where it is, and who it is. I’m dead for two days after staying up past 9 pm, every single time.
I cannot make plans two days in a row
I did that this past weekend. Mistakes were made. I had a brunch event on Saturday and our fantasy draft night on Sunday. Both required leaving home. Both were enjoyable experiences with people I very much love and enjoy, but I’ve been a cranky bitch since. Actually, since before. Because the idea of doing things two days in a row overwhelms me tremendously, so I’m cranky leading up to and following said events.
I just cannot do it and still find a way to enjoy my life.
I cannot tolerate the public
I’m not a small talk person. It’s a lot for me. I’m also continuously perplexed by the sheer stupidity of humans and their inability to function in public. There’s no spatial awareness, there’s no common sense, there’s no…brain cells. Please leave me home.
I cannot skip a high-protein breakfast
It’s an instant day-ruiner. My body will revolt. I will not survive. I will need a nap at the exact moment I need to be in the car to pick kids up from school and run them to and from practices for four hours. I have become a weirdo.
I cannot bounce back
Honestly…what is the deal? One alcoholic beverage and I’m dead. One espresso martini after 12 pm and I won’t sleep a wink that night. You guys…I have to order a decaf. Who am I?
I cannot pretend to want to do things when I do not want to do them
I cannot stay when my body tells me I need to go home. I cannot go if I’m not feeling it. I cannot say yes to things if I know I cannot enjoy them for whatever reason. But I’m also okay saying no, so that’s a good thing.
I cannot be spontaneous anymore
Do not spring things on me. I need to pre-plan and pre-overthink and pre-annoy myself so that I can enjoy myself in the moment. It’s just who I am.
The good news about turning 43
Though the list of things I cannot do any longer (I didn’t even include the part where my body no longer allows me to just…stand up from a sitting position) is that it’s not terrible. I’m at a point where a weekend with no plans feels like the height of luxury, and I love that. There’s something to be said about just enjoying my life and my home and the people I love the most. Game nights, cooking elaborate meals, a fresh shower and comfies before 7 pm…those things are elite.
Although I also suspect it’s time for me to schedule some panels with my doctor, because I’m certain that being tired and easily irritated might mean I’m deficient in something, so I am scheduling that. I am 43. My body is different. My mind is different. I’m a good sleeper and work out daily, eat well, and take care of myself, so theoretically, I should probably feel better than I do, but I feel like that’ll be an easy fix once I know what the issue is (I suspect I suffer from low iron and possibly need some B12).
Turning 43 is a luxury because I’m finally in a place in my life where I feel really good with my decisions, really comfortable saying no, and not at all concerned about hurting feelings or offending others (because I realize it’s not a me problem, it’s a you problem).
So…happy birthday month to ME and happy best months of the year to EVERYONE!
Tiffany Raiford 