"Spend up and masturbate": 9 tips for embracing your 40s.

I was standing in the shower yesterday trying to pluck a stray hair from my nipple, contemplating the end of another decade and making a mental note of all the things I'd tell my younger self now. 

Like don't bang that guy because he'll be pacing your workplace car park on Monday. Don't convince bands in clubs that you're a professional singer when you're two bottles in, and don't eat a whole bag of sugar-free lollies on Valentine's Day because you'll shit water at your dinner date. 

Why does turning 40 feel like a pending crisis?

Watch: Embrace your post-baby body. Post continues below. 

If you're anything like me, you've banked a lot on 'humour' when it comes to your royal f**k ups. Society preempts bad behaviour because you're young, and no one's ultra concerned about what 'legacy' you're gonna leave behind because there's plenty of time for that, right? 

Wrong.  

Now, you can't cry, vomit and fight with people at social events and you can't ask your folks to front court fees for unpaid parking fines. 

Here are my top 10 tips for embracing 40.

Imagine your 60th.

You're hosting a silver-fox party, but you have to wear a pad because every time you laugh at a joke a little bit of wee comes out. 

You'd kill to be 40 again, wearing lacy knickers and enjoying marital sex once a year.

Don't save money.

If you save, you're giving the universe the impression you're not earning enough. 

I've told my husband this a thousand times. Spend like it's no object. The more you spend, the more you'll see. You'll also be a much better person. Money does grow on trees, but you have to prune it to promote growth.  

Offend people.

Make it your birthright to speak up. 

Your circle of friends might diminish, but whoever's left will be solid as hell. Stand up for what you believe in because you've lived long enough now to back your bullshit.  

Swear a lot.

Have you watched the news?

Stop the clock.

Hang on to the little things. Like that time your child said, "Mum can you play with me?" and you said, "F**k me, not again." 

These are the golden years. The ones when there's more crap in their underpants than the toilet, and you accidentally buy nine bottles of Cold Power online because deep down, you know that's how much you need.

Image: Supplied. 

No one steals these years from you. Embrace the mundane. Take the batteries out of your clock and put them in your Ultra Vibe Pleasure 2000.

Don't rehash - put it in the trash.

Stuff keeps you stuck and subconsciously longing for one more stab at your past. Old belongings prevent you from making more memories, connections, seeing more places, and being open to new beginnings. 

No wait, that's COVID. 

Bin it all. The concert tickets, letters, cards, and shitty gifts. The song lyrics, poems, even your old Keith Urban CDs. You have someone to BE. Give yourself room to exist now.

Hang out at Bunnings.

This year, if anyone asks, you want a Bunnings Voucher. You've got indoor plants to kill and hideous outdoor projects to fail.

Shine bright like a diamond.

We've all got a purpose. If you haven't found yours yet, do a free online quiz. Shine like all the stars in all the sky in all the universe and...

Masturbate.

Don't be afraid to masturbate. I asked my doctor for something to calm me because we were moving house, and he prescribed orgasms instead.

Just turn off any devices in your room because Siri will post that shit all over YouTube.

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This decade is madness.

It's raising teens, nursing newborns, coming to terms with fertility issues and sweating, so much sweating.

It's growing in your marriage, getting a divorce, navigating the dating scene again and adding beard balm to your shopping cart. 

My inner child is loosening her grip, and she's taking so much with her. My connection to childhood, the need for my parents to stay young and protect my criminal record forever, the people, places, and memories I thought defined me. All the plans I had by 40, who I thought I'd be... and she's taking most of my metabolism, too.

But how cool that we can genuinely bid farewell to old mistakes, find comfort in the fact that, despite social media, we're all just as mad as each other. And how outrageously good does it feel to love the friends we have, just so we don't have to attend social events in search of more? 

It's being unapologetic for our southern mullets in high-waisted bikinis and proudly admiring the families we've created, all sitting around on tech, indoors, ignoring each other, on a sunny day. 

This decade is just the beginning.

Feature Image: Supplied.