The Beauty of Aging

I’m going to say something that may sound unbelievable. I actually like aging. The older I get the more I like myself, the more comfortable I am in my own skin, and the more I love life. It sounds like an oxymoron, or perhaps a paradox considering the person I see in the mirror, a person with wrinkles and ever increasing gray hair emerging from my head. I look at myself and see that I am no longer young, cute, or fit, yet I am more comfortable and confident than I was when I had more visual assets. I honestly mean it.

It’s funny how much less I liked myself when I was young and seemed to have more going for myself than now. It has taken me years to accept the person that has always been hidden within. I used to think that to be adequate I needed to be perfect, to be thinner, and to look better. The list went on and on. No matter how good I looked, or how good a person I tried to be, it was never good enough to live up to my own expectations. It’s really quite funny that now, of all times, when I’ve passed my days of youth, that I am finally comfortable with who I have become. Funny that now—at middle age—I have finally found out who I really am and I like what I’ve found. I have finally accepted who I am. I now can see that I always have been adequate. I just couldn’t clearly see who I was. One blessing of aging is seeing things more clearly. Experiences gained have taught me so much. Each year of my life has provided new opportunities for growth and understanding.

One day my sister and I were in the food line at Wendy’s. We were talking about her cruise and how much fun it had been. We decided that although we are older and no longer look as good as when we were young that it would be really fun to take a cruise and lounge on a beach. We agreed that we don’t need to worry what anyone thinks about us because nobody is looking any more anyways. It was funny because as one of us said that, a guy in the line in front of us—while trying not to let us see that he was looking—very carefully checked us out over his sunglasses. He just had to see what the women who said that might look like. It gave us a good laugh. So maybe I’m all wrong and people are still looking, but I just don’t care anymore, because I like myself, and that’s good enough for me. I am learning to enjoy life on my terms, not the terms and expectations society has set for me.

I love the confidence gained by living life. I love being able to look back a few years and compare my younger self to me now. Through this new found light I can see what I have learned, the experiences I have had, and the people I have been blessed to know. And I wouldn’t take back any of it to be young again. I like where I am now.

For once I can honestly see beauty in aging. I can see wisdom in a wrinkles face, and experience in gray hair, in wrinkly hands I see the labors of a life well spent. Old people are beautiful. The way they look shows that they have lived a life worth living, a life of meaning, a life that has meant something to someone else.

I have now most likely passed the middle point of my life. It’s probable that more than half of my life is over, but I’m at the prime of my life at 45. I am just where I want to be. I might be at the top of the hill, but I’m at a place where I can clearly see the view from both sides of the peak. Looking behind me I see where I came from, looking straight ahead I see that I am exactly where I want to be, and looking ahead I see many more opportunities await me as I venture down the other side of the peak. There is much more life to live.