I was recently told I was beautiful…for my age.
It was the first time the recognition or involvement of my age was connected to my physical attribute.
To say it was surprising would ring true. To say upon reflection I was offended would be true as well.
It was a complicated situation and one I know I will now start to be a part of more and more as I age and age because one cannot control the years.
Beauty and age are not related.
I was beautiful at twenty, and I am beautiful now.
The question is, am I supposed to not be? Is it a shock? Why so? What am I supposed to look like as I near forty?
Also, forty is not old, so youths, please mind yourself.
What I have learned as I have gotten older in life is that I do not fear aging, nor do I see it as a negative. I still strive to eat healthily, move my body and feel as good as I can, but I do not fight the aging process.
I do not use Botox, nor do I dye my white hairs.
I have no judgment or opinion on those who do, but for me, I have no strong internal desire yet to do those things, and I might never get the desire to invest my time, money and energy into those resources targeted at women who are getting older or women in general.
To me, the wrinkles, white and grey hairs, and greater body aches and pains when I wake up are part of the evolution of life.
I am more mindful of what I eat and when I eat because it impacts me in greater ways than when I was younger. I spend fifteen minutes doing yoga when my coffee is brewing in the morning, not necessarily because I want to but because I wake up sore, and I never used to. I am cognizant of how much negative ‘stuff’ I allow into my life because I know stress wreaks havoc on your health, and it weighs much more heavily on me now to be stressed. I am mindful of my need for rest, and I appreciate the little things a lot more now.
All the silly life lessons people told you…
