Yesterday I found my first gray hair on my head. I’ve had them elsewhere, though finding one on my head was a first and somehow different.
While I’d like to say that my plucking it out wasn’t about vanity, a large chunk was. I’ve come to a place where I honestly like myself and my body a whole lot more than I previously have. However, periodically something hits and I find a hidden reserve of “you’re not good enough; where you’re at is bad” lurking around.
Finding the gray hair hit a lurking sore spot.
I’ve been noticing more spider veins on my legs and uneven color patches on my face (sun spots or age spots?). I have a lot more wrinkles and fine lines too, as well as moles. While I know I’m older than I was 5, 10, 15 years ago, it’s still kind of a surprise to see it reflected back at me.
After finding the hair, I started to think about my body, where it’s at, what it looks like, if it’s “good enough” (whatever that means).
It struck me that my body has always been nice to me, regardless of how mean I’ve been to it. I spent years fixated on everything that was wrong, poking, prodding, and telling it that it wasn’t okay. And it still showed up every day without fail.
Sometimes when I’d take really bad care of it, it hurt a bit or tried to gently nudge me otherwise to say that it needed something different. And yet regardless of if I treated it better or not, my body still showed up. Dang — it has been so loving and loyal to me.
Maybe I can look at this gray hair as a right of passage. Yes, I am getting older (and this is a privilege not everyone gets) — and I’m getting stronger and happier each day. And my body works. It works well.
Do whatever you need to, body. I’m going to try and feel what appreciating you is like. I’m not going to get it right every time, but I’m going to start trying . You are worth appreciating, and I appreciate you. Thanks for showing up.