Yesterday, I turned 40.  I am by turns shocked, neutral, slightly dismayed, and a little bemused.  Mentally, I think I’ve been somewhere around 27 since I was… 27.  I think maybe it’s the forceful sound of the word.  “Thirty-nine” has soft edges and can be whispered.  “Forty” seems like more of a bark.  Still, it’s better than the alternative.

The day itself was lovely.  I had to work, but I flipped on the light on my office in the morning to discover it had been “birthday bombed” by my lovely co-workers.   I really didn’t mind the black balloons, but I’m grateful there were colorful ones as well, along with streamers, banners, and confetti.  My parents made the drive up to my work town to take me out to lunch and the gray drizzly day turned out to be spectacularly cool and sunny.  J sent me a spectacular tropical flower arrangement, I Zumba-ed my 40-year-old heart out with friends, and I came home to a healthy delicious dinner cooked by J.  How could I be sad about my age on a day like that?

I’ve already been making so many changes in the last month that I can’t say I did extensive self-assessment yesterday, but I did confirm something I’ve discovered over the last couple of weeks.  Part of my desk decoration included a piece of cake.  It was such a thoughtful touch, and in birthdays past it would have become breakfast.  And this year…. I didn’t want it.  I don’t mean I was ungrateful at all, I mean I didn’t crave it.  I didn’t fixate on it, I didn’t figure out how to balance my day around it.  My friends and co-workers know about my new eating lifestyle (I try not to overshare, but at the same time, it helps explain some changes in my eating behavior when we get together).  They are considerate, to the point of apologizing if they set out doughnuts in the kitchen or eat something in front of me.  I tell them it is fine, as is polite, but it’s also the absolute honest truth.

I’ve mentioned before that this lifestyle is as much spiritual as it is healthful, and with the cake, I have realized something profound.  I am free.  It is a genuine deliverance; former favorite indulgences have no hold on me.  I’m not passing up the rolls at dinner because of rigid stick-to-the-plan determination, I’m passing them up because although I’m fully aware of how good they taste, I’m aware they don’t benefit me, and for the first time in my life, that awareness is enough to simply disregard them.  Friends… this is entirely new territory!  It’s not willpower, because I don’t have enough.  I believe it’s the grace of God and the result of re-tuning my body’s desires by eating foods that satisfy and provide energy in the right way.

The night before last, I told J I wasn’t sure I wanted to turn 40.  He told me that was silly.  He has insisted since we met that I look younger than my age, and I believe he means it.  He also told me that 40 was wonderful, because I have all the wisdom of having lived through those 40 years along with the opportunity ahead of at least 40 more years to live it out.  You can see why I feel like my marriage with him is a gift of God’s grace as well.  So despite my knee that grinds unpleasantly when I go down stairs, the remaining weight I’d like to lose (although 20 pounds down is an encouraging start), the signs of crow’s feet around my eyes, and what I suspect is a grayer-than-blonde eyebrow hair, I will focus on my blessings.  A husband I adore, a family I cherish, a job that fulfills and challenges me, a body beginning to rediscover its original design, a sense of purpose and knowledge of self I didn’t possess even at 30… I’m beginning to think 40 can be delicious.

By the way, so was the cake.  I took it home and split the piece with J, and it was the perfect amount of birthday treat.  And when it was gone, it was out of my mind.  And that is the most delicious thing of all.