The Age of Ageing

Thoughts on why it is a defiant act to show your age

How might I describe it? A shift in attitude? I have come to the conclusion that I think differently to many of the women I meet these days. This happens less so with those I meet online. I suppose that says something about tribes. You could say I have developed a different set of attitudes. In the main, I don't mind that I am ageing. I am starting to attribute this view to my consumption of age-positive social media. But also there is something about my mother’s Scandinavian attitude to ageing (less bothered) and as I come to think of it, I have a touch of general defiance too. If society says ageing is bad, pfffff, what does society know?! I was at a dinner recently and the women were talking about anti-ageing hacks. I was struck that the conversation felt outdated. Why are we all trying to avoid the inevitable, I thought, but did not say. One woman reached across and touched the arm of another woman and said that she could recommend a good colour-depositing shampoo to cover grey. She turned to me and said that such a shampoo wasn't made for blonde hair and I started to explain that I used to be a brunette but I dyed my hair so much and now it’s grey blonde. Gronde. I am growing it out, I explained; that has been the case for two and half years. She looked at me and regarded my roots. She said nothing but there was mute understanding that perhaps we came from different sides of the same coin. I am less inclined to think of age as something that we need to hide, cover up, disguise, fool others about. It is all so tiring. I no longer believe that if one can look younger, one should. I suppose my preoccupations have changed; I am not against anti-ageing exactly, but am trying to view my appearance and how it’s changing as a process I have the privilege to be a part of.