I never dreamed I’d see adulthood, and I certainly didn’t expect to turn 40. But here we are! Tomorrow I’ll celebrate—truly and joyously—turning 40 years old. And I’ll do it in a society that largely frowns upon aging—and definitely frowns upon frown lines. (Frown. What a weird word.)

Growing up with cystic fibrosis, I never much thought about aging—and I certainly didn’t imagine a scenario where I’d be 40. I didn’t worry about getting old; I worried about dying young. Yet I’m still here, and I’ve doubled what the CF life expectancy was at the time I was born.

I’m thrilled that I’ve defied the odds, but a small part of me is frustrated that I’ve spent so much of my life treating statistics as gospel. Death was always just around the corner—or was it? What might I have done differently if I knew I’d live to see 40?

Adding to the complexity is the fact that I’m turning 40 in America, a place where people are increasingly obsessed with anti-aging efforts. We see this daily in the ads that promise more youthful-looking skin or supplements that can reverse other natural effects of aging. And, in case you’ve fallen prey to those ads, I’ve got good news for you: there’s nothing wrong with aging.

Since childhood, I’ve considered growing old to be privilege that isn’t granted to everyone. But now I’m bombarded with messages that THIS MUST BE STOPPED. The best part is I’m not falling for it. I’ll wear my age as a badge of pride.

Plus, the more grey hair I get, the more the purple dye will pop.

This weekend I’m celebrating these two lifetimes I’ve lived—and embarking on the third!  

Want to help change my life expectancy yet again?
Visit https://fundraise.cff.org/greatstridesatl/drew.