Midlife Crisis or New Level Unlocked? You decide

So I’ll be 40 this year. I’m cool with it. The older I am, the closer to retirement I am! Also, I’m happy with where I am in my life. Good husband, decent career, great credit score, own a house with a pool, good friends, decent family relationships, fucking awesome cat. So I don’t think I’m having a mid-life crisis. I’m just making a lot of changes.

New arms, new stomach, new boobs (all through drastic plastic surgeries) — and some fucking sweet tattoos. Like full in on the new bod and tattoos. I’m getting a sleeve, yall. We’re all-in here. And this was somewhat brought on by my turning 40.

It’s like dude, I’m getting old — if not now, then when? And who’s to tell me no? And why not? Like, bitch I’m 40, what say do you have in my life? Career? I can cover the tats if it’s a big deal or an interview. Long sleeves and pants — check. Husband? He hasn’t objected. In fact he’s pretty jazzed about the boobs. Family? Meh, mom was the only one who would have had any weight, and well, we know how 2020 took her out. Friends? Why would a friend object? I hope I don’t choose friends so badly.

So yeah, I’m halfway through this bullshit we call life. I think I’m doing OK at it. I feel like 40 brings a new freedom. Is that a mid-life crisis or mid-life catharsis? I’m not trying to regain my youth — fuck that, my 20s were a shit show. So was my youth. Fuck that shit. It’s more like: now I have permission. It’s a shame I don’t have hair I could dye amazing colors. I’m too hot-natured for wigs as an alternative. Gonna have to put all the color in the sleeve.