I want to tell you about a big AH HA moment I experienced this past weekend.
Last week I got my hair cut for the first time since we moved here, and as the stylist shaved away layers of my red tresses, all I saw was white, white, and more white.
Where did my hair color go?
Usually my dark ash brown roots would signal the time for a touch up. However, this time I could hardly see any brown. Sighing, I picked up some Clairol that promised to “cover stubborn grays.”
Two days ago, while moisturizing my face, I paused to examine a tiny crow’s feet wrinkle that seemingly popped up overnight by my right eye.
I am 44. In some respects, I am proud of that age. When it comes to my face and body, that number scares me. “Age is just a number” is a mantra I practice, yet, the reality is I AM GETTING OLDER.
What will getting older mean for me? Will I fight gravity? Or will I embrace what is happening? I don’t know.
Susan Sarandon perfectly expresses my hopes for aging:
I think the secret is, enjoying the now and letting go of the worry will show from the inside out. Here’s to remembering that idea when I cringe at another crow’s feet!
Love, laughter, and shoes –