"It's Too Late" is a Lie: What Wilson Phillips & Five for Fighting Taught Me About Aging

Picture this: I am currently sitting in gridlock traffic, steering wheel in hand, belting out Five for Fighting’s "100 Years" at the top of my lungs.

I’m hitting every single dramatic piano chord with full emotional commitment. Then, right as John Ondrasik sings the line "15, there's still time for you... 22, I feel her too..." I hit the part about 40, glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror, and hit a sudden, screeching mental pause button.

Wait. I am in my 40s.

My mind immediately flashed back to a core memory from decades ago. My youngest sister, who was practically a toddler at the time, once boldly declared in front of the whole family that forty was "basically ancient" and that people that age were essentially ready to be preserved in amber. To a ten-year-old, 40 sounds like prehistoric times.

Now that I’m actually sitting squarely in this decade, I hear fellow middle-aged adults everywhere constantly lamenting that "it's too late" for them—too late to change careers, too late to learn a new skill, too late to start over, or too late to wear bright colors. But as I sat there in bumper-to-bumper traffic, clearing my throat and picking up the song again, it hit me: 100 Years isn't a song about running out of time. It’s a reminder that every stage has its own magic, and there is still so much road ahead.

It turns out, 90s and early 2000s music hits wildly differently when you're navigating middle age. Here are four classic tracks that transformed from catchy radio jams into ultimate adulthood anthems.

1. "100 Years" by Five for Fighting (2003)

• Childhood/Teen Memory: A sweet, melodic pop ballad with a nice piano melody that played constantly on VH1.

• The Middle-Age Reality: As a teenager, the lyrics felt like a fictional storyline about someone else's life stages. Now? The song feels like a full-blown time-capsule audit of your own timeline. But instead of triggering a mid-life crisis, it’s surprisingly liberating. Realizing you’re at the "40 for a fortnight" mark just means you've gathered enough wisdom to stop caring about silly stuff, while still having plenty of time to build whatever you want next.

2. "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips (1990)

• Childhood/Teen Memory: The dramatic, harmony-heavy anthem we sang into hairbrushes while pretending we were in a dramatic music video.

• The Middle-Age Reality: Back then, we thought "holding on for one more day" was about surviving a dramatic high school crush or a failed algebra test. Today? It is the official anthem of adult resilience. It’s what you play when your laptop crashes, your back hurts for no reason, and you’re trying not to lose your cool over a customer service call. When Carnie Wilson sings "Don’t you know things can change? Things can go your way if you hold on for one more day," it feels like a personal pep talk for surviving Monday.

3. "Waterfalls" by TLC (1994)

• Childhood Memory: Sing-along chorus on the radio and iconic music video with liquid-blue special effects.

• The Middle-Age Reality: What felt like a catchy pop song back then is actually a sobering, cautionary tale about health awareness, risky choices, and heavy consequences. As adults navigating real-world responsibilities and systemic stress, lines about chasing "waterfalls" instead of sticking to the rivers and lakes you're used to feel less like a dance track and more like a gentle reminder to prioritize your peace, drink water, and keep your life drama-free.

4. "No Scrubs" by TLC (1999)

• Childhood Memory: An upbeat playground chant about avoiding broke guys hanging out of the passenger side of their best friend's ride.

• The Middle-Age Reality: It transforms from a funny dating jab into a masterclass in setting strict personal boundaries and valuing your peace of mind. In your 40s, a "scrub" isn't just someone without a car; it's anything that drains your energy without adding value—whether that's toxic group chats, unnecessary drama, or social events that start past 8:00 PM.

So to anyone sitting in traffic thinking "it's too late" to start fresh: turn up the radio, sing the lyrics at full volume, and hold on for one more day. We've got plenty of time left.