I can hear some of you booing me already. And I’m going to make you hate me even more by admitting that I was rooting for Carrie’s and Mr. Big’s relationship to end. Not by him leaving her at the altar, but by her deciding that she’d had enough of waiting for him to come around. One thing forty years, several boyfriends and watching friends with their boyfriends has taught me is that whoever that man is three months into the relationship is who he’ll be three years in. This is a generalization of course, but many male friends have confirmed this for me. Men know what they want and who they want to be with pretty early on in a relationship.  So, if he was non-committal when you met him, he’ll be non-committal 10 years later.  If he’s ghost on the weekend a month into the relationship, don’t be all “OMG” when you can’t find him on a Saturday night five years in.  And finally, if he was with someone else when he met you, he’ll be with someone else while he’s with you.

Sex and the City was just a movie, but the reality is, the reason the show and movie resonated with so many women is that we imagined ourselves as one of those women, living that life, being involved in those relationships. So, when Mr. Big finally, finally, finally realizes he wants to be with Carrie we’re elated because if Mr. Big can finally come around, so can the guy we’ve been with for 10 years. But in real life, it often doesn’t work out that way. And in real life, drama doesn’t make a relationship any stronger or more valuable – it just makes it more dramatic.

Someone once told me, “a fool at forty is a fool for life.” Ironically he was a fool himself, but I take my wisdom where I can get it. For my own sake, I hope it isn’t true.  I hope that at forty and beyond I’ll still be able to learn from the foolish things I’ve done for love and change course when necessary.  I suppose the Carrie Bradshaw-Big ending, as unlikely as it seems to me,  does happen. I’m sure there are many instances where after years of not being sure about who he wants and how much he wants her, a man finally realizes that he just can’t live without her. I know it happens. But in my case, I hope it happens faster and with a whole lot less drama. Is that too much to ask?

Image source: Access Hollywood

20 things you need to know

I wish I could protect you from, and prepare you for all that lies ahead, but I can’t. No one can really. But what I can do is share some things that only I’ll be able to. Some people think the past, present and future are all happening at once, so who knows. I know you won’t understand everything I’m saying, but take notes, you’ll need them.

1. Some of the people in your life will disappoint you, lie to you, hurt you. Some of them are just stupid. Others are just evil. Forgive them all, stupid and evil alike, and move on. Remember what they did and learn from it. Don’t hold what they’ve done to you against anyone else.
2. That thing you want to do with your hair in the eighties. Don’t. You leave dozens of grease spots up and down the east coast because of it, and Chris Rock will mock it mercilessly in a documentary he releases in 2009.
3. Try to get that eating thing under control early – believe me, you’ll be fighting that battle for years. In the meantime, live your life and do the things you want to do, regardless of what the scale says.
4. You’re going to have several really great ideas for businesses. Instead of talking yourself out of it, just do it. You are smarter, stronger and more resilient than you know.
5. You know how they said it would be too difficult to be a successful, black, female journalist? Oprah’s like the richest person on the planet now. Seriously. Don’t listen to them.
6. Learn early to worry less about what people think about you. The truth is, people spend a lot less time thinking about you than you know.
7. Back in college, that cute guy that kinda looked like Tom Hanks liked you. Do NOT look at him like he’s crazy when he wants to work on “the project” at your house. That old dude on the other hand is just a freak. Stay away from him.
8. Those two annoying, screaming things that invaded your “only child” sanctuary will become your best friends and biggest supporters.
9. When people show you who they are, please, please, PLEASE believe them. It will save you years of heartache.
10. Relationships aren’t always easy, but they shouldn’t always be hard. If you spend most of your time wondering if it’s worth it, it’s not.
11. When you go to light that grill in ‘91, take a couple quick steps back. Blonde eyelashes and eyebrows are not a good look on you.
12. Credit cards are not free money. Stop using them to make yourself feel better. In the end you’ll only feel worse and be broke.
13. The stock market crashes on October 19, 1987 and again on September 16, 2008. If you have anymore money in the future than I did, move it!
14. On September 11, 2001 the world changes forever.
15. Do you know who Barack Obama is? You will in 2008.
16. That thing you’re crying your eyes out about at ages 14-16, 18, 23 and 25, in a couple of months you won’t even remember what all the drama was about.
17. He’s not coming back. Don’t wait for him. Don’t wait for that other one either.
18. Do you even know where Italy is? Well, in about 30 years, you spend two weeks there and it’s even more beautiful than you ever imagined. One day you’re going to live there. (If Three 6 Mafia…)
19. All that time you spend waiting for Mr. Right, don’t. Instead, use the time to make sure you’re  not Ms. Wrong.
20. You’ve come a long way baby, and you’ve got a long way to go.

If you could send a message to your past self, what would it be, and what age would you send it to? Send a picture of and a message to your past self, to contribute@womenatforty.com and we’ll feature it on the site.

As I draw closer to being forty years old, I try to accentuate the positive in my life. Rather than lamenting the gray hairs that are close to overtaking my “natural color” (yes, I consider the stuff from the bottle that matches the hair of my youth “natural,” just go with it on this, please), I celebrate the fabulous, effortless highlights I get when I color my hair. I rejoice in the confidence that comes from knowing myself on a deep and meaningful level that could only be possible after spending more than three decades exploring the mystery that is me.

I find myself and my girlfriends delighting in our self-awareness and the fact that we are strong, independent women. We are intelligent women—wives, mothers, sisters, friends, CEOs, teachers, attorneys, consultants, accountants and myriad other impressive titles. Collectively, we have traveled the world, battled cancer, brokered million-dollar deals, molded young minds, survived the heartbreak of losing a child, weathered the devastation of divorce and the pain of a full Brazilian bikini wax.

We’ve found the strength to strike out on our own when our employers have failed to realize our worth and we’ve managed to come back from the edge when we thought we could take no more. Some of us have stared down the barrel of spinsterhood without batting an eye, knowing that our sister-girls will be there for us in our golden years and that likely, that will work out better since they will alert us to toilet paper stuck to our shoes, lipstick on our teeth and precariously perched wigs.

We have supported one another through unemployment, bankruptcy, major surgery, baby-mama drama and times when we just needed a friend and a good cry. I sometimes find myself in awe of the women in my life, in awe of their beauty, courage, strength and tenacity. It is then that I am reminded why women bear the children and not men. I’d be willing to bet that all children would be only children if that were the case and that children would roam the streets in marauding hordes—wearing plastic bags, eating Power Bars and drinking Red Bull for sustenance.

I think of my mother, who raised three children as a divorcée in the 70s when corporate America still saw females as secretaries, assistants and receptionists. My mother may have started as the secretary, but she broke the glass ceiling and became the general sales manager at one of the top radio stations in New York City, despite being female and black.

I look at my cousin, Leslie, who in spite of having been laid off in November and already being a single mother, became guardian to another cousin’s ten-year-old son upon his mother’s sudden and untimely death. I marvel at my cousin Cheryll who always has time and a kind word for everyone. Cheryll is my counterpart in planning and executing all sorts of family functions, projects and parties, in addition to being a deaconess at her church and a loving wife, mother and grandmother. She really has it together, and even manages to always have a deck of cards in case an impromptu game of spades should break out.

I have been blessed to have forged true friendship with women like Rochelle and Carmen. The former is my second mother; we worked together in the early 90s while I lived across the country from my entire family. She said I was the first person to befriend her in a new office; I only recall someone once saying that I looked like I could be her daughter and her deciding that I should become a part of her family since my family was so far away and I looked the part anyway. The latter, Carmen, has been my hero for many years now. She somehow managed to balance career, marriage, motherhood and friendship while battling and beating breast cancer. She never lost her sense of humor or humanity either, and she makes the world’s greatest salsa.

I reflect upon all of these amazing women and I say to myself, “Well you must be doing something right, you must be someone special too.” After all, the company you keep is a direct reflection of yourself, right? Well, if that is the case, then I must be witty, resourceful, powerful, sharp, maternal, spiritual, confident, gifted, loving, generous and beautiful too. I’d love to believe that—really. I’d love to look in the mirror and see that the duckling has finally come into her own as a swan and embraced the magic and wonder that is her. But then I find myself rolling on the floor in pain from having fallen off of the stool in the dressing room while trying on jeans and attempting to find an angle that doesn’t make my behind look so big.

Maybe when I actually reach forty years old I’ll become that swan? I won’t hold my breath.

Rachel Dachel is a freelance writer and editor, and creator and author of the blog Rachel-y Motivated Incidents.

That’s only part of the story.  All of us aren’t flying headlong into forty, feeling fabulous and embracing getting older. I’m asking women to be real here, so I guess that reality check has to start with me. There are things I DON’T like about turning forty and a few things I thought would be very different. I have a lot of plans and dreams that I hope to fulfill in my fortieth year, and I’m looking forward to taking on those challenges, but the reality, for me at least, is that not everything about turning forty has been fabulous.  And part of turning forty for me is being able to admit that. So, here are a few things that I don’t find at all fabulous about my road to forty…

That hair in the middle of my cheek

WTH? Please don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen you in my rearview mirror desperately plucking at your cheek, chin and/or upper lip (what is it about car windows that makes us think there’s some sort of shield blocking us.) And, It’s never apparent in the bathroom mirror, in the privacy of my own bathroom in the morning. No, it, the hair, always decides to rear its long, ugly head while I’m sitting across the table from some perfectly made up, facial hair-less neophyte. That hair in the middle of my cheek…yeah, I could do without that.

Snap, crackle pop

I remember when that was the sound cereal made when you poured milk on it. Now it’s the sound I hear when I am running…ok walking, up the stairs. Granted, it’s my fault, I have not done a great job of keeping in shape, so I’ll take all the blame. Nevertheless, it’s still not a sound, or feeling I enjoy. Which brings me to my next observation…

I’m still struggling with my weight

A more accurate description would be, my weight is still kicking my ass.  I suppose this is my issue, my cross to bear, the battle that when I win, and I did say when, I’ll achieve that next level of Zen. Nevertheless, I’m annoyed at myself for still struggling with it after all these years.

Speaking of a cross to bear

I used to have a photographic memory. Yes, it was decades ago, but I had it. I remember taking tests and closing my eyes, seeing a vision of a page in my mind’s eye, scrolling down to the section with the answer and seeing the words clearly. Would you believe me if I told you I had to double check to make sure I spelled the word “bear” properly when I used it above? In fact, I’m still not sure, but the other “bare” means naked right? And this is not that kind of blog. Believe me, caus’ if you ask me the next time you see me, I won’t remember.

Get glasses Alice

If you’re forty or older, you might remember a commercial back in the day when Alice needed glasses and her husband kept telling her “get glasses Alice!”  Fast forward a couple of decades and Alice is now me. In fact, I have quite a few additional, very clever “things I don’t like about turning forty” comments I’d like to make, but I can no longer see my keyboard. I know, I know…get glasses Grace.

Don’t leave me hanging. I KNOW there are many other things out there we don’t like about turning forty. Please let’s share them with each other.  If you don’t I will have to turn this into a “bare” blog, and trust me, no one is ready for that. You can share your thoughts anonymously (or woman up to them) either by commenting on this post, or sending and email to contribute@womenatforty.com.

Photo: Chinese facial threading in London – facial hair is nothing new