litterbug
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
I feel ya', TeleChica. Around 45 I realized that I'd never be 25 again and that there were things I simply would not be able to do because of slower recovery and taking longer to build strength and endurance, but after a short period of grieving I decided I'd earned my incipient wrinkles and white hairs mixed in with my light brown, and smugly thought I'd come to peace with it.I was someone who never expected to care about age, or be bothered by it.
Silly me. How could I imagine having chronic health conditions and how grey and obviously post-menopausal I'd become and, as you said, how differently I'm treated, no matter how chipper or energetic I feel. Heck, sometimes I put actual lip color on and enjoy how many more people look me in the eye and smile. And I may have earned my grey hair, but although I might like it better if it ever turns white, I've started thinking about putting some kind of color in there--just enough to take away that dour grey look.
Which is why I love skiing. Blinded by high winds and windblown snow late this afternoon, I felt completely liberated from my chattering mind and as free as I ever have, marveling at my skis cutting through velvet, flitting and flying around and finding that everywhere I went felt and looked and was beautiful.
Maybe I should stop being such a fuddy duddy and dye my hair. Maybe I should do it myself, the heck with paying $80 to have special wonderful Aveda products carefully applied to my hair!