I’m not rude. I’m 40!

Im forty and I’m finally realizing the joys of being this ripe old age.

Yes, things have dropped, drooped and dried up. There are wrinkles, folds, bags and saggy bits. Grey hairs and chin hairs have popped up. In fact grey chin hairs are regular occurrences.

But these are all superficial things. Things that can be fixed with a nip, a tuck, an injection, a hair colour.

What I’ve gained can’t be bought or faked. It’s been earned.

Seeing my shrink this morning for a quick check up, he asked how my mood’ been. ‘Okay.’ I said ‘But I’ve been snappy with people. I’m not keeping quiet when I’m unhappy with something. I kind of speak my mind!’

‘How old are you?’ He asked. ‘Forty.’ I said. ‘Well that explains it.’

Along with a navel between my breasts, there’s a self awareness and confidence I didn’t have three years ago. There’s a ‘take me or leave me’ attitude and I no longer put up with crap. I don’t need to. For people who’ve known me as meek, mild and non confrontational I suddenly appear rude.

Like last week at work. A young girl, in her 20’s, was arguing with me about something. I stood and listened. And when she had finished I asked her if she knew what she was talking about. She replied ‘No’. I then calmly asked her why she would choose to waste 5 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back. Five minutes arguing about something she admittedly knows nothing about.

‘Mamela Mel!’ she says. ‘Are you sure you didn’t grow up in Dube? So short and so much attitude!’

No, I didn’t grow up in Dube. I just grew up.