I don’t want to appear younger than my years. It’s perfectly OK that I look my age.
I know the beauty industry tries to convince us that we need to look at least 10 years younger than our true biological age, but why? I’ve received messages telling me I look ten years younger, and also 10 or more years older, it really doesn’t matter how old I look, its how old I feel, and I feel the same as I did when I was 18. I eat a varied whole food plant based diet, exercise daily, limit my time on social media and I spend lots of time in nature. It takes effort to feel good, sadly there’s no magic pill. I feel full of energy and ready to take on any challenge. More on this another day, I write less on Instagram posts as the limit on the number of words is too challenging for me!
I took this shot on arriving home from the construction site. My hair was covered in dust and was happily doing it’s own thing. I wandered into the bathroom and picked up the scissors. You see, my hair is falling out. … It’s normal. I have an under active thyroid and it causes my hair to wave goodbye to my scalp by the handful. Sometimes more than others. It’s OK, it’s only hair. 10 minutes of snipping and I have a shorter style.
It doesn’t matter if I look 54, 64 or even more. I just hope I look healthy and happy, as that’s my only wish.
I was asked recently ‘what are you selling?’ I’m selling a healthy midlife body and positive mindset. The cost is your time and commitment. It starts today with you appreciating you are still here and have the ability to change, to embrace and adore your perfect ageing body. One of the saddest things which has increasing monetary value and is highly sought after, is a toy which is decades old, still in it’s perfect box. No scratches, scuffs or creases. Unplayed with. Untouched. Unloved. That toy never fulfilled its purpose. I think the secret to positive ageing is to live in the moment. Not in the past. Not in the future. We are here. Now.
Sadly as we age, those ahead of us must leave to make way for new life….
I have realised the one thing I do hate about ageing. It’s losing the wonderful and precious souls who have positively contributed to, and influenced my upbringing, making me who I am today. Providing love, affection, guidance and support in every possible way.
She has sparkling hair, or maybe cherry red… or any colour of the rainbow. It’s whichever colour makes her feel happy and confident. She cares. She’s kind. She wears what she wants. Dr Marten boots with a pretty dress? She likes it, thats all that matters. She wears her hair long, in a messy bun. Or maybe her head is shaved, an undercut, dreadlocks. Her choice. She dances, she sings, she loves her life. She knows she is lucky, she is here. She’s visible. She’s bold. She’s brave. She’s fearless. She’s wise. She loves every stretch mark from weight gained, weight lost, perhaps a baby, or maybe not. She likes her squidgy belly. It’s warm and soft. A perfect pillow. She walks. She talks. She breathes in the morning air and is thankful each day. She smiles. She makes time for herself, to be the best she can be. She’s caring. She’s mindful. She’s compassionate. She wears sexy undies, big knickers, no knickers, she can wear whatever she damned likes. She wears pink lipstick, red lipstick, no lipstick. They are her lips to choose. She has tattoos, no tattoos, dreams of tattoos, get that tattoo! She’s slim, she’s shapely, she is lean, she is the shape she wants to be. She is everything she never dared to be. This is her time to shine. She is me.
This is me. No makeup. No light adjustments. Just natural old me chilling in the woods on a bed of ivy, soaking in the energy of the earth.
I didn’t like this face much before with it’s wrinkles, sunspots, scars and blemishes. But I’ve learned to love it’s natural state with almost invisible eyelashes and fire scarred skin (you can see red patches on the left side of the photo). It’s such a pity some of the quality is lost when posting on Insta, as you can clearly see the trees above me reflecting in my eyes in the original pic which is lovely. I often find a quiet spot in the dappled light to bathe in the magic of the woodland. Safely tucked amongst the ferns, beech and oak trees, watching the boughs move gently in the wind, their leaves tickled by the breeze. This is my moment of meditation. The birds calling and singing loudly at first light, full of joy, celebrating another shiny new day. The moist dew settled on the fresh leaves and grasses, tips tiny pools of cool tranquillity onto my skin as I join the bugs on the woodland floor.
Yes Bird, that’s my muffin top and flabby arms you see in all their glory. It took many years of not giving this body a second thought to realise how special and important all parts of this this squidgy, marshmallow body are. It’s; been burned in a fire, thrown from a horse, produced a human, in a car crash, climbed mountains, floated in oceans, overfed, taken for granted, taken to the brink, critically ill. Uncared for and overlooked.
I’m still a work in progress. It’s never too late to start caring. Your body will thank you.