I have never spent much time perseverating over getting older, and actually thought I was fine with hitting the big 5-0 this year until my a$$hat husband turned to me at the big neighborhood New Year's Eve party at 12:01 and announced at top volume "you're turning FIFTY this year!!!" Thanks. I knew that. And now the entire freaking world knows that as well.
I was not happy at ALL about turning 40 and was pretty freaking vocal about it, to the point where I told my husband to shut up after he wished me Happy Birthday for perhaps the 20th time in two hours.
So when I came home and found that stupid sign on the lawn - you know, "Lordy, Lordy, Mara's Forty", I went BALLISTIC. Called husband at work and demanded to know if he was responsible for the sign. Because, you know, I had REALLY made myself clear about it. He swore he hadn't done it.
Next I called my sister in Chicago to find out if SHE knew who might have done it. I knew if it were my mom or grandmother (which I doubted), I was going to have to sort of temper my responses.
My sister hesitated for a long time before finally saying, "I told (DH) that was a really bad idea." Yep, she outed my husband. At that point it got kind of funny, but I didn't tell DH he'd been ratted on for about 6 months.
I hope he knows better when my 50th approaches, but I will remind him just in case.
Oddly, I found 50 far less jarring than 40. I did have a momentary mini-tantrum a few weeks before my birthday when AARP sent me an unsolicited membership card, LOL, and I still do make faces when I encounter a "check your age range" box that has 50-64 as a choice, but otherwise, eh. I'm mostly glad to be in the middle of middle-aged.