Growing old and slowing down
I don’t quite remember my first grey hair. I must have been in my early 20s, because I remember my mother (and perhaps even my grandmother) pointing it out, much to my embarrassment. At the time, grey hair didn’t mean being older. It meant being old. And there’s a huge difference between the two. I don’t blame my mother. When my brother’s first grey hair was discovered, I made fun of him too, for being old. So, a few years later, when I noticed a grey hair or two, I didn’t take it well. I yanked the first few off. I was worried my hairdresser would comment on my hair. I hated it when friends pointed it out. But then, at some point, I stopped caring. Now, I quite like seeing more and more greys on my head. It’s somewhat of a relief. Being old. And yes, I know that I’m not actually old or anywhere close to being old. But I remember when I was in my mid-20s and swore I would never get married or have kids, people would say I would 100% change my mind in a few years. “Just wait until y...