“I’m gonna be 40! Someday!” Sally sobs in When Harry Met Sally. I have long considered Sally to be my cinematic alter ego so I think of this upcoming week as Sally Albright’s Midlife Crisis, because this Tuesday I turn 40. Not someday any more – now.

I’m like Sally in pretty much every regard, from the fussy eating to the dislike of wagon wheel coffee tables, but on this subject we differ. I’m genuinely excited about my 40s. My teens were a mess of hormones and mental health issues. My 20s were lost in a vortex of terrible boyfriends and worse drugs. My 30s were a dream, and by “dream” I mean one of those anxiety dreams that turns your bed into a river of sweat, as I was hit by personality-altering fertility panics. My 40s are the decade when I can just live, unencumbered by the neuroses that, in my case, were largely just a symptom of being young and insecure. As Danny Glover would say, I’m too old for that shit.

Being 40 means I know stuff. More than when I was 30, and even more than when I was 20. I like that. I’ve spent four decades getting pretty much everything wrong, and now that I know the below I reckon I should get everything right in the next four.

1 As you age you gain so much more than you lose

I am not one of those women whose looks improve with age. My cousin recently posted a photo of us in our 20s and I spent three solid days staring at it, not even breaking for meals. “Look how much prettier I once was!” I shouted at passers-by. “Those bright eyes! That unlined forehead! And I had no idea!” Sure, I could weep for all the boys I could have kissed back then but felt too ugly to do so, but those boys were never really all that. And I’m glad I never thought of my looks as my USP, because it means my sense of self is not bound up in them. Instead, I’ve got better at the things that matter to me. I’m more self-confident, which has made me a more stable person and better writer. I no longer judge myself by how others see me, or put up with men patronising me because I am female/have a funny name/would choose the works of Steve Guttenberg as my Mastermind subject. In short, I don’t assume everyone else knows better than me, because experience has taught me I invariably know better than the men who patronise me. And that is worth the wrinkled forehead.





2 The fertility freakout is a con

Yes, it’s harder to get pregnant over 40 than it is under 30, and yes, women should know this. But the way we are obsessively harangued about this is a trick to make us turn off our intelligence and become baby-obsessed just as our male colleagues are making career strides. When I hit my mid-30s I started, quite frankly, to go mad. I dated men who in normal circumstances I wouldn’t have spat on if they were on fire and I stayed with them in the belief they were “my last chance” (they weren’t). One night one of these idiots dumped me and, crazed with self-loathing, I went to a party thrown by one of my bosses, where I promptly got wrecked, was caught taking drugs in the loo by said boss and then insisted everyone watch me dance to Chaka Khan. Are these the actions of a sane person? They are not. So be aware of your options, but don’t become obsessed by them and don’t feel powerless before them. Most of all, don’t do drugs at your boss’s party. Learn from your elders!





3 Don’t hide behind your youth

I started writing for this paper when I was 20 – yes, as in half a lifetime ago – and because I spent so long working with people older than me I got a little too used to thinking of myself as that stock figure, The Comedy Chaotic Young Person. This meant that I often coasted (of course I came to work hungover – I’m basically a child!), underestimated myself (I can’t possibly write a serious article, I’m basically a child!) and thought my novelty value lay in my youth (Me! Basically a child!). I am definitely a grown-ass woman now so I can’t hide behind the smokescreen of youth and inexperience any more. Instead, I take personal responsibility for what I say and do. This, I honestly believe, is good for the soul.





4 Finally, do everything

Well, not everything (see point 2). But the only real regrets I have about my youth are the things I didn’t do because of self-doubt: the jobs abroad I didn’t take, the books I didn’t write. Do it all now, young women, not because you won’t have time when you’re older (although you won’t), but because you shouldn’t let self-doubt hold you back from anything, and it holds too many of us back from everything. And if there’s one thing I wish for my birthday, it’s that this no longer be true of the next generation. Happy birthday to all of us.