the "magic age"

Shortly after I turned 40 I went to my nurse practitioner for a routine check up. Nothing out of the ordinary, but she is writing referrals for all manner of tests and procedures. “The good news is you don’t need a pap smear annually,” she informs. “Really? Why?” “You’ve reached the magic age.” Bewildered, I say nothing. “I’m also recommending a full panel of blood work including thyroid, cholesterol and blood sugar.” I must look dazed because she repeats, “You’re at that magic age, and we want to have a baseline.” Not one to use medical services outside of emergencies I ask, “Baseline for what?” “Well, you’re at that magic age where things can start to change. Risks for diabetes, heart disease…” The list runs on like the disclaimer at the end of a car commercial. “The Magic age?” I ask. “I keep saying that don’t I? She says with a smile.” “Yes!” I say with astonishment. Am I to believe that an accomplished, confident, active and wrinkle free mother will diminish in the wake of the “magic age?” I left the office determined to defy magic.