At the ripe age of thirty-wonderful and headed to thirty-two-riffic I finally found my first gray hair. At first I had a crisis. What does this mean? (Yank!) Then day 2 I found another. I know more aren’t far behind. I know, people much younger than me that have gone gray and dyed their hair to cover it up, and maybe that will be my choice after too many pop their way into the world. But for now, I have decided to age gracefully. Accept my wrinkles and my gray hair as a sign of being weathered, experienced, and cultured. I have lived enough in this life to have lived many lives and a gray hair is something I should welcome, like my new love of over sized cardigans and NPR. I have to get stronger glasses, my shoulders can’t quite get comfortable in bed anymore and I need to start taking MORE vitamins than usual to keep my bones and teeth strong.
Me in 30 years.
Here it is, signs of aging. They seem to happen all at once, like car problems and friends having babies. You can’t see have just one instance at a time, there needs to be a snowball effect. But you know what? If a gray hair makes me accept the stage of life I’m in and grow up, eat healthier, read more books, get more sleep, have tea before bed, then so be it. I’m happy being a lady in my thirties (who still gets carded) and I will sure be able to handle all the future has to give me.
While I’m at it, here’s an article on Aging Gracefully.
Happy Aging (like a fine wine!)