I celebrated my 40th birthday last year and, unlike my 30th, I welcomed this milestone with open flabby arms and joyful exaltation - I am WOMAN! I am FULL OF VITALITY! I have MY WHOLE LIFE STILL AHEAD OF ME! Maybe it was the wine, or the weekend at Universal Studios, complete with a visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
But I digress... The point is, I feel really good about my life at this age. I'm doing what I love professionally (writing) and personally (raising my family) and striking a great balance between the two. I'm not at my skinniest, but I'm still reasonably fit and can keep up with daily life. It'd be great to have a little more comfort financially, but we're far from broke and we still have our health. For that alone, I am grateful.
But I'm putting together a proposal for an article I'd like to publish in Redbook. This is my favorite magazine, kind of a combination between Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping and People. It has a little of everything - they way I prefer life to be - and for many years I have enjoyed reading it. So it's no surprise that I fit their target demographic perfectly.
So this morning I look at the Writers' Guidelines and the first sentence reads:
REDBOOK is targeted to women between the ages of 25 and 45 who define themselves as smart, capable, and happy with their lives.
Whoa.
I'm merely a few years away from NOT being a part of that cherished advertising range.
I know it does not matter in the practical sense. Redbook will not cancel my subscription. I will still enjoy the articles and benefit from them. I know I'm only as old as my mind will let me feel, blah blah blah. And tomorrow I totally won't care.
It's just a reminder that, not unlike my waistline, my relevance is fading with age. It's one of those little turning points of life that makes you think, or reassess your life.
Or just ramble on with a blog about it.
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