5 Weird Signs You’re Officially Getting Old (And Kind of Loving It?)

So, the other day I decided to finally cash in those “good performance” points from work—you know, the ones you hoard like a dragon guarding treasure. I was ready to treat myself. I browsed through the catalog: sparkly bracelets, trendy sunglasses, chic handbags… and then I did something completely unhinged.

I ordered a vacuum for carpets.

Yes. A vacuum. For carpets.

Not a designer bag. Not a pair of statement earrings. A vacuum. Because apparently, my carpets have become a buffet of bread crumbs, biscuit bits, fruit peels, and—wait for it—playdough. And in that moment, it hit me: I chose a cleaning appliance over fashion. Who even am I?

That’s when I realized—maybe I’m getting old.

Sure, we all notice the usual suspects: skin that’s not quite as bouncy, fine lines sneaking in under the eyes, hair that start losing its thickness. But honestly? It’s the habits that scream “you’re aging” louder than any wrinkle ever could.

If you too are in your late 30s or early 40s—still young, but not sooooooo young—you might relate.

Here are my 5 weird-but-undeniable signs of growing older:

1. Practicality over appearance

Last week, I found myself in the waiting room of a clinic, when a woman in her 50s caught my eye. She was dressed casually but with intention—neat jeans, a soft blouse, and a pair of 6 or 8cm heels. Stylish, yes. Comfortable? Absolutely not. As she stood up to head to the washroom, I could see the slight wince in her step. And I thought to myself, “Why is she doing that to herself?”

Then it hit me. That used to be me.

From my early 20s to my mid-30s, I was a heels-at-the-office kind of woman. It was part of the look, the vibe, the identity. But now? I work fully remotely (a blessing, especially with three children running around) and I am super happy doing that in my slippers!

The last time I wore heels was for an important social family event, months ago (I want to say more than a year, but that would be embarrassing). So what changed?

Is it motherhood? The need to be grounded—literally—when chasing toddlers or carrying a sleepy child up the stairs?

Is it the move to the suburbs (see my previous post), where nature trails and grocery runs don’t exactly pair well with stilettos?

Or is it simply age—and the wisdom that comes with it? The realization that life is too short to suffer for fashion, especially when comfort feels this good?

Whatever the reason, I’ve officially crossed over. Practicality has dethroned appearance. And honestly? I’m not mad about it. There are so many stylish flat shoes out there, it’s not even a compromise!

2. The Unexpected Joy of Cancelled Plans

A few days ago, I was supposed to head downtown Montreal for a work social event. Part of me was genuinely excited—after all, I’d get to see my colleagues in person (a rare treat in our remote-work world) and enjoy a fancy dinner at a trendy spot.

But then… the other part of me kicked in. The bigger part.

That part was already calculating the logistics: prepping the kids for the next day before I left, making sure dinner was ready, praying we wouldn’t stay out too late because I’d still have to wake up at the crack of dawn to get everyone ready. Oh, and figuring out what to wear that’s stylish and heel-free (see: previous paragraph).

So when the event got cancelled?

My inner cheerleader did a full-on victory dance. YAYAYAYAYAY! I get to stay home!

And then I paused and thought… Wait. Am I old?

Maybe. But also maybe I’ve just reached that magical age where peace and comfort beat out glam and hustle…

3. Bye Bye, Night Reading… Hello, Page 3 Pass-Out

For the first 29 years of my life—aka the pre-motherhood era—I proudly wore the title of “night owl.” No matter what the day had thrown at me, whether I had to be up early for work or had just stumbled home from a club at 5 a.m., one thing was non-negotiable: I always read before bed.

Books were my nightly ritual. If the story was gripping, I could devour 100 pages in one go, no problem. Reading wasn’t just a hobby—it was a core part of who I was.

Fast forward almost a decade, and I’m still clinging to that identity… but barely.

I still love books. I still want to read. But now? The moment my head hits the pillow, it’s like my brain files for shutdown. I fight to keep my eyes open, determined to squeeze in just a few pages. And then—bam—three pages in, I’m out cold.

It’s not that I’ve stopped being a reader. I’ve just become a reader who naps aggressively between paragraphs.

4. When Ingmar Bergman Got Traded for Home Decoration Shows

Another core part of who I (once?) was, was my love for cult movies. Since my early teens, cinema represented a true form of art to me, and I was sincerely trying to become cine-educated. I was proud of myself for rejecting mainstream bubblegum blockbusters in favor of what I considered “quality” films. I chose movies based on their directors—even if they were made decades before I was born. Ingmar Bergman, Jean-Luc Godard, Stanley Kubrick, to name just a few. Each of their films felt like a (very welcome) shock to my brain, offering food for thought.

So, what changed over the years?

After becoming a mother, I found myself unable to watch anything that might negatively affect my mood. I live with a constant undercurrent of anxiety, always tuned into the safety and well-being of my children. And since we moved to our own home in the suburbs a couple of years ago—a house that constantly demands maintenance and renovations, just like any other house — I’ve found myself genuinely interested in home decoration shows and YouTube DIY videos.

I mean, I still consider Orson Welles an unparalleled genius, and Citizen Kane remains my all-time favorite film. But sometimes lately… I’d rather watch the Scott brothers’ shows instead!

5. When Winter Depression Turned into Winter Excitement

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a true summer girl. I adore warm weather, breezy clothes, and long days at the beach. As Janis Joplin sang so beautifully, “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.” That’s me in a nutshell. I used to joke that I was like a hibernating bear—at my best from April to October, and in a sleepy slump the rest of the year.

But I am only going to say this.

Last autumn, when the first snowflakes began to fall and I swapped my summer sandals for chunky winter boots, I didn’t feel the usual wave of gloom. Instead, I thought, “Oh good, it’s finally getting cold. We’ll be cozy at home, and the kids won’t have as many distractions—they’ll be able to focus on their studies.”

If that doesn’t scream “growing older,” I don’t know what does.

Celebrating the Journey

Getting older is inevitable—an integral part of being alive! Sometimes, we find ourselves surprised by the changes in our habits or preferences. It can feel unsettling, as if we’re losing a part of who we once were. But in truth, it’s not about loss—it’s about change and evolution.

It’s completely natural for our tastes, desires, and sources of joy to shift over time. The things that once lit us up may gradually be replaced by new passions, new comforts, and new rhythms. And that’s okay.

We are still us—just in a different chapter. The key is to embrace the process, be kind to ourselves, and find joy in the journey!   

What are your weird signs of getting older?