Aging Gracefull

My hairdresser, who, to his credit, dates older women, took what I considered to be an unflattering picture of me to post on his Facebook salon page. I told him under no circumstances was he to post that pic. His answer was, “You look good. Why don’t you age gracefully?”

Okay, so I appreciate him telling me I look good, although he had just done my hair, so it was a compliment to himself as well. But seriously, is aging gracefully even a thing?

First of all, with my achy joints and sometimes painful lower back, it’s become harder to do anything gracefully, much less aging. Picking things up after I drop them means one of two things now. Either someone picks them up for me, or I walk away leaving them on the ground. Gone are the days I would swoop down a long staircase in the highest of heels, prepared for admiration. Now, if I safely descend any staircase, much less a long one, without a knee giving out, it’s a celebration.

Nevertheless, I still swoop when possible. Even though they have to be short stairs, with my car waiting immediately below so I don’t have to toddle far if I am wearing high heels. Why? Because long ago I read about a Hollywood hostess who made such entrances. Once, when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and someone told her she was beautiful, she replied, “No, darling, I only make you think I am.”

If there were such a thing as aging gracefully, that would be it. Making you think I’m beautiful, even with my crow’s feet and ever-extending smile lines. And that requires a couple of things, that are actually more about staying young than aging gracefully. Before we get to that though:

Please don’t make the mistake that I am ashamed of my wrinkles.

I earned every one of them honestly, through life-long laughter, sailing the ocean, smoky honky tonks (back when people smoked in bars. Thank the beauty goddesses that’s no longer allowed), and from screaming orgasms. There are meaningful and fun-filled memories attached to each line in my face. So I don’t hate them. I just refuse to let people define me by outward signs. Unless they, too, see them as the marks of my magnificent life.

So if aging gracefully means making you think I’m beautiful, or at the very least seeing me the way I see myself, what does that require? Mainly, self acceptance, self-love, and self-confidence. When we have those three, the acceptance and admiration by others simply becomes less important.

When we are young, with the freshness and dewy good looks of youth, we are most obsessed with how others see us. To the point of not seeing ourselves realistically at all, much less as they see us. Beauty is, indeed, wasted on the young. Seeing your own special brand of beauty is a gift that often only comes with age.

The main component of “aging gracefully” isn’t about aging at all. It’s about staying young. We stay young by encountering each new day with the wonder of a child. Always ready to learn and experience new things. Or encountering known things with newborn eyes.

We age gracefully by having a youthful and loving attitude. We don’t go through life frowning on others, especially the young. Instead, we keep abreast of new music, new literature and new thought. We welcome both the cynicism and enthusiasm of youth. We can grow from understanding both. And as long as we are growing, we never truly age.

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Previously published on medium

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