Physical signs of aging make me feel like time is of the essence. They remind me that life is not infinite, and so I should avoid spending it on the couch scrolling social media, binging Netflix or simply dreaming about all of the things on my bucket list. I want to be in the present moment and savor whatever makes me come alive. I mean, there’s still so much I want to see, do, and experience in this lifetime.
The aging process also makes me curious and, honestly, a lil’ nervous about how the next few decades will alter my appearance. This quote about aging from Joseph Pilates always cracks me up: “As we mature, we find ourselves living in bodies not always complimentary to our ego”.
At the most superficial level, when I look in the mirror I see the aging process at work. As I gaze at my 51yo self, I see decades worth of reflections flash before me: each era staring back as a reminder of what’s shaped me.
I see… the negative voices from my childhood about my appearance that cultivated my own negative self-talk… being a dark-skinned Black girl in a predominantly White town with a love of Classical ballet where no one looked like me either…