As I inch closer to 40-years-old I begin to get more jittery about my age. I’ve watched others go through their mid-life crises. I’ve listened to them declare their must-do’s before 40. I’ve heard them groan: “Man, I’m feeling old” as they get up off the couch. I’ve muttered to myself: “You’re only 40, for fucks sake”. But, in the past few months I’ve started to understand what they were complaining about. What worries were creasing their forehead and fuelling thoughts of botox and boob lifts. Thoughts of life passing me by have started to creep into my everyday musings. I’ve been trying to push them aside, ridicule them. Then today, I saw an old dude cruise past me on his Harley. He looked youthful and alive. He looked happy. He made me realise I have to get over myself. Age is but a number. I know people much younger than me who are like an 80-year-old trapped in 30-something-year-old body. I’ve known 60-somethings who have the adventurousness and curiosity of a child. I’m going to keep that vision of the bikie bloke in my head to remind me to keep young at heart and not be afraid of growing old. Instead, I will try and embrace it; even the saggy, wrinkly bits. Getting older is a gift. Extra time to cram more adventures into an already fulfilled life.

This is part of the gorgeous Maxabella Loves weekly blog hop.