Even though this post is about turning 40, let me take you back ten years.
January 14, 2016. I had an early morning, so it was still dark. I woke up and wandered to the bathroom, barely awake. I remember perking up once I looked in the mirror because even though I knew it was my 30th birthday, I was genuinely happy to see my face as it was that morning. I even smiled at my reflection, which feels important in hindsight.
As I reached for my toothbrush, I noticed a sparkle on my eyebrow. I assumed it was glitter because I love glitter. Naturally. I brought my finger to my left brow and realized it wasn’t glitter at all. It was a white eyebrow hair, and it was way longer than it needed to be. I took a deep breath and thought, okay. This is a sign of 30.
Ten years later, here we are.
As 40 approaches, I feel the age hovering over me in small, oddly specific ways. Usually when I’m signing up for something online. They ask for my birthday, and the muscle memory for scrolling to my birth year suddenly isn’t quite enough. Or they ask for my age, and as I scroll… there is no 40 option. Just 35+. Yeah. That’ll do it.
Those moments definitely make me feel an age. But the thing is I don’t actually feel 40.
I’m not here to talk about how awesome I am at being 40, and I’m also not here to be super depressed because the world says I should be because I’m 40. I’m just here to share my reflections as a 40-year-old Asian American, childfree, unwed woman who is still very much paying attention.
How 40 Feels Different Already
Forty is hitting differently because the internet and social media are actively telling me I’m older. If I open Instagram, I get a flood of reels trying to sell me bras to keep my girls perky, leggings that will apparently make my butt brand new, or fitness trainers calling out women 40+ who want “new bodies” and should DM them immediately.
It feels like a sharp, constant assault. Like what I wear, how I move, and what my body looks like are suddenly urgent problems that need fixing.
In real life, though, people don’t clock my age. That changes the moment I disclose it. Especially with younger people I work with. Their energy shifts. It’s like they think I just got off the Ark. It’s actually kind of funny sometimes, once I get over the initial whiplash.
Overall, though, I do feel wiser. Not in a mystical way. More like I just… know things now. Because I’ve lived them. I’ve seen patterns repeat. I’ve watched situations play out. I’m 40. That adds up.
The Gap Between How Old You Are and How Old You Feel
The idea of “feeling an age” is much blurrier than it used to be. Being 8 and wishing you were 12 is not the same as being 38 and wishing you were 42. So in that sense, I can confidently say I don’t feel my age.
I feel younger than what ten-year-old me thought I was supposed to be.
I grew up in the 90s, so I assumed by now I’d have my hair cut above my shoulders, a business job where I wore business suits, and I’d just be… making a lot of business. That is absolutely not my life. I don’t even think people wear suits that often anymore.
Which raises another question: am I not feeling my age, or did the world just change faster than my childhood expectations? I honestly don’t know. And I’m not willing to think that hard about it right now.
Still Paying Attention
I didn’t realize how much my views on health would change.
Part of it is that I truly did not believe my metabolism would catch up with me. I kept living like I was 25 and gained a lot of weight. Losing it was a lot of work, and not for vanity reasons. My joints hurt. I was out of breath climbing a flight of stairs. That will get your attention real quick.
The other part was watching my parents age and pass away. They lived most of their lives without major health concerns. It wasn’t until they got older that mortality started making itself known. Seeing that made me pay closer attention to my choices now, not out of fear, but out of awareness. If I can avoid some of the complications they faced, I want to try.
I’ve also learned that good relationships require a good match. And that it’s okay to take time to find one. You don’t have to settle out of fear of aging.
After a breakup in my early 30s, I really thought my shot at a happily ever after was done. I dated random guys and genuinely felt like, wow, I screwed the pooch. Not to sound cliché, but it wasn’t until I stopped searching for a partner that my current partner showed up. I didn’t think it would take as long as it did. But here we are.
I’m also realizing I took a lot of things too seriously. These days, I can pause before deciding how I want to feel about something. My stress level is different now. Not necessarily lower, just better managed.
What I’m Not Doing This Time
I’m not wearing ridiculous shoes that look good but ruin my feet. I’ll go further and say I actively research and test footwear now to make sure it’s actually the right choice for whatever I’m doing. Not just cute. Not just “I’ll be fine for a few hours.” I mean shoes I can stand in, walk in, and still feel like a person at the end of the day.
As a dancer, my feet have been through a lot. Years of rehearsals, performances, bad floors, worse shoes. Add in gaining and losing a lot of weight over time, and yeah, my feet have really shown up for me. The nicest thing I can do for them now is stop pretending pain is a normal part of being dressed. Comfort isn’t giving up. It’s appreciation. I’m genuinely grateful my feet have carried me this far, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I’m also not buying whatever I want anymore. Dealing with my mom’s estate has made me more aware of what it means to be left in a good position because someone planned, saved, and thought ahead. My mom was careful. She made choices that gave me stability when she didn’t have to. Sitting with that has changed how I think about money.
It’s not about deprivation or pretending I don’t want things. It’s about respect. I don’t want to undo what she worked for by being careless or impulsive. Making better financial decisions feels less like discipline and more like stewardship. I’m paying attention now because someone who loved me deeply, did.
And I’m not taking my family for granted. I’ve lost the core pillars of my family, my mother and my father. That kind of loss rearranges your understanding of what family even means. Since then, other family members have stepped forward in ways I didn’t expect, and some have faded into the background. It’s changed how I see time, effort, and presence. I don’t assume there will always be another chance or another holiday or another conversation. I pay attention now. That alone has shifted everything.
Closing Thought
I want to be more aware of the life around me in this next decade. I spent a lot of time doing and acting and preparing and not as much time actually living. Not everything needs to be fixed. Not everything needs to be prepared for. I just have to pay attention as life happens.
I’m handling 40 the same way I handled 30 when I noticed that eyebrow hair: calm, curious and a little amused.
Leave a Reply