Wisdom Comes With Age (So They Say)

I’ve been doing a lot of growing up this past year (we’re well into 2014, can you believe it?). Graduation was just two weeks ago, I’ve just started a full-time career, I pay credit card bills, I’m in a relationship (not that having a boyfriend is any testament to womanhood), I’ve finally learned the beauty of not washing my hair everyday. I once scoffed at those who went one, two, three days sans shampoo. (I draw the line at two.) Now I revel in their gumption; dirty hair is the best hair—not to mention, good for hair health, too.

So wisdom does come with age.

Ever realize how our beautiful grandmas love their bright pink sweaters and baby blue eyeshadows? Partly to blame is the 80s imprinting an indefinite impression during their “glory years,” but I’d like to think it’s largely due to the fact that old people just don’t give a shit and do whatever they want. Who cares? Who has the right to say anything? Our grannies have earned their bones and wear their colors with pride. Chartreuse? Fuchsia? Together? Bring it. There are no rules when you’re old (and if there are, they’re either self-imposed or something to do with Medicare/Medicaid): there’s no playing into gender rules, there’s no pressure of sexuality, there are no dress codes from stern schools or even sterner HR ladies.

I’m not that adventurous yet. Heck, I’m still trying to remind myself that I’m only 22 (and not already 22, as I’m prone to think) and have all the time the world’s willing to give me to get old. Trust—I’m looking forward to the day I wear head to toe pink or paisley and do so without a care in the world. But until then, I’m fine with taking it one step at a time.

After all, I’ve only just gotten over the concept of second-day hair. (Thank goodness for dry shampoo.)

.   .   .

xx