I think I’m having an existential crisis. And it’s all because of my hair.
When I had my baby boy last February, I lost a lot of it. It wasn’t ideal, but I knew it was possible and I was confident it would grow back.
Well, it has—and it’s gray! GRAY.
I stood in front of my mirror a few weeks ago, trying to pluck each individual gray strand off of my head . . . until I realized there were too many to pull out. If I kept plucking, I’d be pulling out nearly half the hairs on my head!
“Sh*t!” I thought. “Is this really where I’m at? Is this my life now? I’m 40 years old, and have more gray hairs on my head than I can pull out. When. Did. This. HAPPEN?”
Needless to say, I didn’t like it.
Of course, this isn’t the first time I haven’t liked one of my physical features. I had a laundry list of complaints in my 20s too: I had too much cellulite on my booty, my nose had a slight bump, and, you know, there was the whole “I don’t look like a supermodel in my bikini” thing.
Maybe you don’t let those things get to you—I hope you don’t!—but I wasn’t so emotionally evolved at 27. It bothered me daily. And I thought back to that as I stood in front of the mirror, surveying the evolution of the hairs on my head.
In my 20s, I had a list of things I didn’t like about myself physically; and here I was poised to get there again 13 years later. I am a bit more emotionally evolved now, so I knew there was a spiritual lesson here.
(There always is.)
How do I learn to love myself wherever—and however—I am?
I can always find something to not be happy about—whether it’s on my head, in my business, or in my relationships. Do I really want to spend my life in a mental tug-of-war with myself? Or do I want to embrace how much better it would feel to celebrate myself—in all of my hotness and imperfection—right now, exactly as I am?
For me, the answer was pretty clear.
I’m not saying you have to accept yourself exactly how you age. If you want to dye your hair—go for it. If you want to start working out to lose weight—do it. Heck, if you want to get Botox—do your thing!
And if you don’t want to do any of those things, that’s fine too!
I’ve just gotten tired of torturing myself over perceived imperfections—it’s just not worth it. It doesn’t do anything but make me feel bad.
And one thing I know I want more of as I age? I want good feelings. I want happiness.
These days, I look back at photos of my 27-year-old self on the beach and think: “Damn, I was hot. Why didn’t I walk around in my bikini all the time?!” But I didn’t choose to see it then.
I refuse to do the same thing and ignore the beauty in my 40-year-old self now. Gray hairs and all.
What “imperfection” are you willing to see differently, to love more? Share your beauty with me in the comments below!