writing thirty at forty? hmmm

i just survived the first quarter of my not so fun, not so fearless forty five years on this shallow earth. three months went by without much excitement, not much fanfare. days went by so fast, as though the hours were being dragged by an airplane traveling at the speed of lightning so it can reach uranus or jupiter in time to witness the end of the world from a distance, detached, unmoved.

when i was younger, i always thought that i'd write thirty when i turned forty. i always thought that at that age, i must have tasted, smelled, touched, stared, felt, drank, swallowed whatever it was that would make life as colourful as it should be. i always thought that forty would be the best time to go before i lose my youngish looks, my svelte figure, my thick, black hair. i'm vain and i'm ready to pay the price.

but the gods seemed to have other plans for me because i woke up with a maddening head ache and smelling of beer and cigarettes on january the fourth two thousand and nine, a day after i celebrated four decades (and supposedly my last day on earth) by drinking so much inside a dark, smokey bar, and kissing, flirting, touching as many adonises from other countries (until now, i still felt as though i was in a united nations convention that night) as my drunk self could handle.

the sun was cruel, filling my room with too much heat, when i opened my eyes and found two naked guys beside me whose names i could not remember. my first thought then was, ah welcome to hell.

alas, hours later, i realized i was still alive, breathing and taking a shower in a stranger's apartment.

after that day, i though maybe in five years, i would reach my expiration date. the day i would die.

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now i am forty-five years and three months old. but i'm still breathing.

i never thought i would say this about living beyond my expiration death. it's actually nice being in your fortys. much, much better when i was in my insecure twentys, when i had so much illusions of grandeur, when sometimes i was so consumed with my insecurities, fears and paranoia about the future that i would lay sleepless for nights, drinking, smoking, getting high.

in my fortys, i feel more stable. most of my insecurities are gone. i am no longer as hotheaded as before. moody, yes. but my mood swings are no longer as wild as two decades ago, when i would wake up so upbeat late in the morning, only to be upset and even depressed a few minutes later due to so many minute things like too much milk on my coffee, or too little cheese on my bread.

now, i am less shaky, more stable. sometimes i feel nothing the whole day. just the contentment of being alive. i am also now more comfortable of who and what i am. no more pretensions. the days of being a second rate, trying hard, lousy copy cat are over. i feel lucky, because some can't get rid of that, they continue to live a false life, a sham through and through.

nothing upsets me much anymore. i don't even get mad (come to think of it, when was the last time something really riled me up? three months ago? when a "friend" tried to sabotage my special day. hahaha. no i don't easily forgive even at forty plus). when i see or hear something that upsets me, i just turn a blind eye  and a deaf ear and go on with my day, as if nothing happened.

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while at a party most recently, a very skinny person, the one in the room everyone avoids because she doesn't know tact, i was flabbergasted when she told me that i am no longer as attractive as when i was younger (i had no idea how she knew how i looked like when i was  younger when we've just met) because, among others, of my bulging midsection, a result of eating a lot while on a temporary break from the rat race, drinking and an overall sedentary life, thinning hair and lines on my face.

i just smiled and went on eating. not dwelling on what she said too much. had it happened several years ago, i would have made a dramah. i would have retorted that at least i used to be beautiful and desirable once, while she had never been with her anorexic, famished look, flat breasts like that of a teen-age boy, and overall uncouth ways. not attractive at all. but i did not.

instead, i just told her that yes, i am aging, and i hope it will be gracefully.

that  shut her up. sometimes, the best way to silence detractors is just to agree with them. anyway, whatever you say won't have a bearing on what they thought about you. they're close-minded people. they're not worthy of even a second of your time.

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now, i will state the obvious: growing older has been blissful as far as my inner self is concerned. i am more calm now, more peaceful, more accepting of what i have become and more hopeful of what lies ahead. i no longer feel paranoid that i might wake up one day with my looks gone, jobless, bankrupt and forced into prostituting my profession, (which, by the way, i love so much), like some so-called journalists that i read on papers, who are, deep inside, just public relations practitioners parroting whatever their sources are saying, too scared to offend them because it could mean not being part of the expensive junkets abroad, the exclusive dinners at pricey restaurants.

but, let me be clear, i have nothing against them. to each his own. if they're happy doing that and their conscience can take it, why not? i would too if i were in their shoes.

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of course i still don't like the outward manifestations of growing older. especially the obvious ones that the tactless party guest had once pointed out: losing my youthful glow, thinning and greying hair, weight gain and wrinkles no matter how many times i visit my facialists and whatever cream and how much moisturizers i put on my face, special pastes i apply around my eyes.

the age still shows.

that's the reason why i wished i would be gone by the time i hit forty. so i won't witness the withering of the once youthful, happy me. so i won't have to live and see how i metamorphose into a sad, angry sack, with a smooth dick of a head, with a heavy tummy even if i wasn't pregnant.

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but these are minor inconveniences, mind you.

what is important is i feel bliss. and that's something that nobody can take away from me, wrinkles and bulging tummy not withstanding.

having said that, i don't look forward to turning fifty.