Why Midlife is Having a Moment
Ew, are we approaching midlife? It might not be so "ew" anymore.
It’s not that serious. Musings on wellness, fashion, motherhood, marriage and more from a 30-something on a mission to make a living having fun. Welcome to Ask Ashley.
Happy Tuesday.
It’s hot as Hades and yet here I am sitting outside drinking a hot coffee. There’s little in life that calms me like a piping hot oat milk latte.
Speaking of calm…
The news really got me in a tizzy the other day. You know, the day where our military sneak-attacked Iran.
After telling Jake we needed to immediately dig ourselves a bunker in the backyard, I had a glass of Pinot Grigio and contemplated how I would live my life if I only had one night, one month, one year left to live.
I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t be doing.
I wouldn’t be obsessing over how many people read my Substack newsletter. I wouldn’t be checking my Instagram page for likes. I wouldn’t be calling my sister to bitch about the cost of a babysitter and I sure as hell wouldn’t be beating myself up over having a slice of cheesy, greasy pizza.
When we zoom out (which, arguably, we do not do near enough), almost everything that’s going on in our lives seems trivial. Stupid, nonsensical, dramatic, petty and irrelevant.
That’s not how I want to spend my days. Especially since I’m planning to live until I am a cool 106. Maybe even 108 with the wellness kick I’m on.
Whatever this war or potential war or non-war or ceasefire is, it’s probably going to pass. We’ll all write in our gratitude journals how thankful we are to be alive and the next day we’ll go back to complaining about our husband’s spending too much time on the golf course and getting ourselves worked up over forgetting to buy the organic ketchup at Trader Joe’s.
And because Ask Ashley is meant to be a reprieve from the trudgery of the cruel, cruel world, today we’re going to talk about being 40 and the feelings that come with it.
Let’s get into it.
Is There Life After 40?
Not long ago, my feed was filled with bachelorette party extravaganzas and the Big 3-0 birthday party celebrations—friends galavanting through Italy’s green hilltops, welcoming their newborn babies, and patting themselves on the back for getting promoted to Account Manager at work.
Now, I’m seeing a lot of 40th birthday celebrations—at vineyards, hip, downtown restaurants and neighbors’ perfectly landscaped backyards, and it feels…strange. At the ripe age of 35 years young (not yet 40, suckas!), I’m realizing I, too, am going to be 40 one day. It’s freeing and fantastic and uncomfortable all at once.
In my mind, I’m a sprightly 28-year-old barely on the heels of life. It still feels weird to say I’m Jake’s wife. It’s mind-boggling to have grown three humans in my body who now all call me mom.
I’m looking forward to caring less about what other people think of me and floating through life with a more laissez-faire attitude wearing more expensive kaftans; money troubles and career woes far in the rearview mirror. But I’m also afraid of the things that come with age, like realizing your parents are getting older, too, and the devastating fact that your butt just isn’t lifted like it once was.
Today, we have excellent examples—while few and far between—of the fabulousness that comes with growing older. Like Martha Stewart on the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine. Or Nicole Kidman playing the hot cougar (she is a hot cougar) in A Family Affair with Zac Efron and again in Babygirl. And perhaps one of the most iconic illustrations of aging gracefully provided by legendary fashion starlet Iris Apfel, who didn’t become a Someone until she was well into her 70s.
These standards prove that our lives aren’t over once we’ve gone over the hill. At least that’s what it was called when I was growing up. In my eyes, my parents are still in their 40s and people who are considered “old” are well into their 80s and 90s.
When I was younger, I never understood why women got so self-conscious about their ages. Approaching birthdays and I’m really showing my age by saying this type of talk confused me because no one can help how old they are—what is there to be embarrassed about?
I know now. Because now I’m the one acutely aware of my aging self, thanks to the deepening lines around my eyes and this dull, horrible shadow that’s seemed to overcast my entire face, replacing my once youthful and buoyant glow. The physical signs of wear and tear on our bodies is no laughing matter. Just ask my son. He’ll happily tell you about my “old lady hands” and how without makeup on, “I look 40.”
I understand where these women—my aunts, neighbors, and parents of friends—were coming from. They were reluctant, horrified in some cases, about admitting their ages because the Baby Boomer generation was taught that once you reached 40, your life was O-V-E-R over. All traces of youth left behind never to be seen again. A woman after 40 was destined only for mid-section weight gain, shitty readers from Wal-Mart and a more serious outlook on life. Or so it seemed.
Now, in the age of celebrating hot older women (applause, applause), we are being shown that beginning a new career at 50 isn’t just possible, but smart. That leaning into our wiser, older selves is a gift, not a curse.
Pretty young 20-somethings are no longer the only ones ruling the media, beauty, film and fashion industries. There’s a spot for all of us—and for all of our wrinkles—but we have to stop talking about getting older like it’s an appointment with the electric chair.
After I die, I plan on reincarnating myself as a goddess angel who swoops back on Earth from time to time to give my darling children and grandchildren the style and life advice they need from Little Old Me, bopping them on the head with my gold wand and washing their troubles away.
All of this to say that reaching midlife shouldn’t be a crisis—it should be a call to action. This is what Reshma Saujani, host of the My So-Called Midlife podcast, and countless others discuss in their push to view midlife as a time of awakening and reinvention and let’s get our sh*t together and live our lives as fabulous and bold and loud as possible because we aren’t going to be here forever.
The internet informs us that “Midlife is generally considered to be the period between the ages of 40 and 60,” going on to say, “This stage of life is often seen as a transition point where individuals may experience physical and mental changes associated with aging, and may also face questions about their identity and life choices.”
Seems accurate.
I encourage us to worry more about living our lives with equal amounts of intention and carefreeness, rather than fretting over forgetting to pick up our dermatologist-ordered retinol prescription (which has been at the pharmacy for a month and half now).
Thank you for reading. Keep being you. A beautifully aging and sculpted butt you.
Xo, Ash
As someone who always looked younger than I was till I got near 60, I do miss my more youthful looks and ability to lose weight easily. Most of us are not those hot older women. But I made a career change at 52 and have felt an unexpected sense of expansion in the first few years of my 60s. There's so much to appreciate about getting older!