A Different F Bomb (2023)

You know the word. The F bomb. You may not use it but you know it. You may love it but still blush if you use it in front of your parents. It is counted among the most profane words in English, if not the. It’s also one of the more versatile ones. It’s one of those alive words that has evolved beyond its original etymology and can be used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, an interjection or an adverb.

I have a different F word now. Fifty.

I turned Fifty. Made it to 50. Survived to 50. Fifty isn’t sad or a slump toward old age. It’s a HEY-HEY-HEY-Kool-Aid-man crash through the wall of bricks holding me back; rather than a crash into the wall, which I’ve done so many times.

Fifty. It’s like f**k but more life-affirming.

So, why is f**k such a satisfying word to utter, or scream, or growl? Linguistically it starts and ends with strong consonants. The powerful “fffff” of that F, where you must blow air through your top teeth and bottom lip. It can be a smooth sound or a thudding force. Then it ends with a sharp K like a knife cutting off the end of a carrot. Or a slap. The middle even holds up the effort — uuuucccccc.

Let tell you why “fifty” is better. Fifty not only has that strong F sound but it has two. Take that, F-word. And it ends with a sharp T sound; much like the sharp K, but nicer. Less of a slap and more of a playful shove. But then….

But THEN it ends with a jaunty little Y. A little youthful cheekiness right there at the end; a little springy step. Cute but not too cute.

Fifty carries with it the weight of experience, survival, (hopefully) wisdom, and — well — heft. Just like my menopaused body has more heft, so does this word. It all fits. I feel free to take up space without apologizing. So let’s take up some f-ing space.