My butt has widened, my bras have gone from sexy to sensible, and I'm pretty sure I need bifocals. I buy shoes based on arch support instead of potential cuteness factor. When did I get so old?
I asked my sister (who, incidentally, is three years older than I. I was a mess when she turned 40, because I knew my turn was coming up fast.) She reminded me of what my brother-in-law told her when she turned 40: that, since we don't turn 1 until we've lived 1 year, turning 40 means you've actually lived 40 years and are starting your 41st. That cheered me right up, as you can imagine. I'd like to point out that my brother-in-law is turning 45 this year, which means he's actually starting his 46th year, which makes him practically 50. 
But I digress. Looking for comfort and validation online, I put it out to my Facebook friends: when did I get so old? Here's a sampling of their sympathetic replies:
"I've been 40 since October. Suck it up, buttercup." (Allison T., my 7th grade gym class buddy.)
"Thanks for going through it first! I appreciate that!" (Diane B., my high school french class buddy, who won't be 40 for nine more months.)
"Have a glass of whine!" (Sarah C., who won't turn 40 for another year at least, so she has no idea what I'm going through.)
"Take pleasure in the fact that you will look better than Jason at 40 and beyond." (Joy M., my wonderfully awesome sister-in-law.)

Of course! My family! Sure, my brother-in-law's words were no help, but maybe someone else in my family would make me feel better! I called my Aunt Joanne.
Me: "I'm going to be 40. I'm pretty depressed about it."
Auntie Joanne: "Well, that's stupid. Snap out of it!"
Me: "You're right. I'm all better now!"


Because really, let's look at 40: I own my own business. I get to kill off people I don't like in the stories I write. And, thanks to my Dad's genes, I hardly have any gray hair. (And thanks to my Mom's genes, I still have great teeth.)
So there you have it. Good teeth, no gray, sensible bras and shoes, and a pretty great support group of family and friends. I guess 40 isn't so bad after all.

1. Eat more nuts. A handful of walnuts will leave you satisfied.
The reality: A handful of walnuts wouldn't satisfy a squirrel. If those walnuts are coated in chocolate and sprinkled on top of a chocolate cake, maybe they'll satisfy me. But I wouldn't count on it.

2. Don't confuse thirst with hunger. Drink a glass of water and see if that satisfies you.
The reality: I already drink enough water every day to float an ark on. I think I'm smart enough to tell the difference between when I'm dehydrated and when I'm craving a pot-pie-sized peanut butter cup.

3. Eat more fish.
The reality: Okay. I can realistically give this a try.

4. You may be used to fried foods but there are other, sometimes healthier, ways to cook including: roasting, steaming, poaching, baking, braising and broiling.
The reality: Do you want me to eat more fish or not?  Because the only way I'm going to choke down more cod is to batter and fry the heck out of it.


5. Sugarless chewing gum can suppress your appetite in a pinch.
The reality: Dr. Oz is a certifiable fruit bat. You know what suppresses my appetite in a pinch? Chocolate cake with chocolate-coated walnuts.


6. Ditch the mayo, cheese and top bun if you want to scrape off 250 calories from a restaurant sandwich.
The reality: Why would I toss out the best parts of the sandwich? Tell me again to ditch the cheese, and we're going to have a fight on our hands.


See? None of these suggestions are realistic, or easy.  I prefer the "have just another little sliver of chocolate walnut cake and wait for science to invent a magic pill to lose weight" method. Though I probably shouldn't delete all those emails from Weight Watchers after all.