You know you are getting older when you are no longer the cool, favorite aunt, but now the one banned from posting on your nephews and nieces’ Facebook pages because, well, you are the aunt.

You know you are getting older when the 25-year-old co-worker puts a Ms. in front of your first name and a “m’am” after he says “yes.”

You know you are getting older when you can remember the first time Alvin and the Chipmunks became popular, and it wasn’t on screen but with a cassette tape of Christmas songs.

I look forward to getting older. In fact, my 40th birthday will be four weeks from today and I can’t wait. I have been told that “40 is the new 30.” What does that statement mean? Is it with the new math that my nephews and nieces were trained on - does 40 really mean 30?

Why is 40 the new 30? Are we now being told that we need to take 10 years off our ages to feel good about ourselves and, well, be, peppy or perky as a favorite columnist of mine, Susan Cronk, said. I agree with Cronk when she said, “Who says 30 was so great? I can do perky at 40 and I’ll bet I can do it at 50.” I have not even hit 40 yet, and she is talking about perky at 50.

With the big 4-0 fast approaching, my perspective on life is this - life is life, live it. Trials come, but like the preacher said Sunday, “This too will pass.” Either way, I decided to be stereotypical this year, at the end of 2009 and beginning of 2010, and get healthy.

I started taking Pilates classes.Yes, I said Pilates. For a weight challenged, semi-out-of-shape all-American girl or woman or missy, just pronouncing the word “Pilates” is tiring.

Jennifer asked, “Pilates … no disrespect intended … but have you lost your mind?”

First night at the studio, I arrived about 15 minutes early and thought I was in the wrong place. In front of me was a room full of women of various creeds, colors, religions, sizes and ages doing Latin dances to music. I wondered if Jennifer Lopez and Richard Gere were going to show up (a la “Shall We Dance?”).

Then, the music stopped, and Hollie, the instructor, who by the way is pregnant, called, “OK, gear up for pilates. Will someone get the bands? Hey, grab you a band and a spot. Just do what you feel comfortable with.”

I looked around and noticed she was looking at me.

At some point during what seemed like hours of push-ups, stretches, crunches, etc., I thought maybe Hollie had lost her mind. She would call out exercises and holler at words like “inhale” and “exhale.”

As I lay there on the floor, legs in the air, trying to make like a pair of scissors and remember to breathe, a zillion thoughts ran through my mind - some of them not very nice.

When class was finally announced over, I struggled to a sitting position - cheating by using my elbows. Hollie with a happy face asked me how I enjoyed the class. I couldn’t even talk, but just nodded. Who wants to hurt the feelings of a pregnant woman?

NBA basketball coach Richard DeVos said, “It is impossible to win the race unless you venture to run, impossible to win the victory unless you dare to battle.”

Even if it is stretching and bending your body in ways that you didn’t know were possible.