Call me eccentric (it surely would not be the first time) if you must when I share I like the sparklies in my hair.
Indeed, the other morning while brushing my teeth, the bathroom lights reflected on the gray strands on my head, and I realized I liked them.
White hair certainly sparkles better than my dark hair in the light. Yes, it also heralds the fact that – gasp – I am aging.
Think about it: when do we first realize our bodies are not eternal and that life must – at some point – come to an end? For most of us, I would think this understanding occurs in childhood.
I am not entirely sure why I would even want to look decades younger than my age. I mean is there a prize? Is life better if you look more youthful than the next person? Are you more content? Happier? Loved more?
Call me cynical, but, I don’t think so.
The Sparklies in My Hair
The gray in my hair indeed announces to the world that I am no longer 20. I don’t care. To me, the gray sprouting on my head means so much more.
Let me count the reasons I welcome the white strands.
My salt and pepper (more pepper than salt at this point) means I am alive! I am excited about this fact.
How cool is that?
It is terrific news to me. Not everyone makes it to my age. Some of my former classmates never married or had kids; they departed in their youth. Others in their 30s, and so it goes.
I should make a notch in my belt to mark my years on this earth as a badge of honor or I could sprout some gray hair to gratefully announce I am still blessedly breathing.
I love myself and my aging body much more today than I did when said body was tight, smooth, and everything was located in its “proper” place.
My untested body was indeed youthful, without sags and wrinkles, and a few pounds lighter. Nevertheless, being the owner of a young and thin body did not add one iota to my happiness since at the time I was completely unappreciative.
At the time, I felt it was missing “this” and had too much of “that”. I believed – erroneously – happiness would surely come if I were beautiful and apparently, I felt the beauty fairies had decided to skip my cradle.
The body I am graced with today has been tested and handled itself marvelously. This body rocks. It carried life, birthed it, and fed it.
As if this feat was not enough, it has enabled me to walk, swim, run, hug, kiss, cook, read, and much more. It is typing this blog post. It can speak not only in one language but more than one.
Pretty nifty huh?
This body can drive a standard car, ride a bike, roller skate, hike, but I won’t continue to bore you with every this body of mine can do,
Does it fit in a size zero dress?
Will it win a beauty prize?
Will it graze the cover of magazines? Lay gracefully on the beach in a tiny bikini? Cause guys to turn around as I pass by to oogle?
Nope, heck no, and I hope not!
And guess what?
I don’t give a flying leap.
My husband loves ME, the person inside the body. He happens to love the content of the package, not the box.
Incidentally, all the people who love me, love me for ME and if anyone at any point wants to walk out of my life because my outside appearance is not to their liking, I will gladly hold the door for them as they depart.
I have decades under my proverbial belt, and this gives me a sense of wonder and humble gratefulness.
I am keenly aware I have – more than likely – fewer years ahead than I do behind me. Do I genuinely want to spend any of this precious and finite time stressing about my hair color?
Nature is showing to the world that I have grown and – hopefully – matured. Honestly and truthfully, you could not pay me to be 20. My 20s were not my best years, and certainly not my happiest. I am much happier and content today than I ever was then. I believe my best years are ahead of me.
I am no longer 20 – or 30 -for that matter. I doubt my hair color makes a huge difference. I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a 20-year-old and even if they did, this fact would not add anything to my life.
Gloating “I look younger than my year” would in no way raise my happiness quotient although, truth be told, it may increase my pridefulness quotient a tad.
Happiness is an inside job.
Inside, I still feel young and vibrant, and I am beyond grateful for my life. The outside does not reflect my internal state, no big deal.
Life happens in cycles; they are all around us, we just need eyes to see: the seasons, the lunar cycle, and so it goes. Humans also go through cycles, and seasons. I am entering a new one.
Life is a wondrous mystery and there is beauty in the process even though I have not figured it all out just yet, and probably never will.
In Conclusion: The Sparklies in My Hair
When I think of all the moronic decisions, I made in my youth out of pure ignorance and immaturity which I would never make in a million years today. I don’t want to go back to being young.
I can recall my thought process, and I am still baffled wondering “what was I thinking?” If the exchange for the contentment and happiness of today is a different hair color, I say “bring it on!”
Yes, I am a woman of a “certain age,” but how cool is that?
This woman is not to be messed with, she wasn’t born yesterday, and does not put up with silly shenanigans nor does she put much stock about a stranger’s opinion of her appearance.
I have life experiences youth knows nothing about.
It holds no magical power; dark hair is not the Holy Grail. Actually, I am starting to think the magic is in the sparklies on my head.