I am so anti anti-aging, mostly because it’s an impossibility. No amount of botox or eye cream is going to make me 35 again.
I’m very proud (a little righteous?) about my stance. When people tell me I don’t look my age (53 next month), I laugh and tell them I do. A few months back, I got a big haircut that apparently makes me look much younger – that’s what everyone says. But I have too many cowlicks and too much frizz to deal with short hair – I am growing it back, so it can be plopped on top of my head and forgotten. Who cares?
And of course, I am accepting the weight gain that, evidently, comes with age.
There are many fine examples of me confidently welcoming this decade; however, I have to admit – I realized there’s one area where I’m not so sure. Going gray.
Going gray hasn’t been an issue, because I didn’t really have any gray hairs until this year. Maybe there were a couple of grays at my hairline, but I’ve highlighted my hair since high school and that covered them easily. Now, they’re hair in force.
Kind of defensively, I tell myself that I have dyed my hair for the last 35 years because I love to play and think it’s pretty, so if I continue to dye it, it’s nothing to do with age. But covering gray feels different than highlighting mousy brown.
Kind of defensively, I tell myself that my particular gray isn’t a pretty color. I tell myself it really washes me out and makes me look tired. So, there are other reasons to dye it.
But, if I am truly honest with myself – I fear it will make me look really old. Hmmm
Perhaps it’s time for me to stop judging wrinkle cream…