I will soon be 40 years old. It isn't a big deal; my best friends have turned 40 already and they survived. I don't feel old enough to be almost 40, and I am no where near grow up enough to have achieved such a significant milestone. I've never been terribly vain, so most of the time I don't worry about how I look either. Many people have told me I look very young and believe neither that I am the mother of seven nor that I am almost 40 and that is good enough for me.
Recently, though, my oldest daughter (a teenager) removed any doubt as to whether I am indeed getting old. She exclaimed, after pulling a white hair from my head, that I need to go see Lisa (my stylist) soon because I need my hair colored!! Can you believe it? No subtlety, no hints, no gentle comments. She didn't leave any doubt as to her opinion; I'm getting old and I need to color my hair.
I will, of course, heed her suggestion. Lisa is a dear friend (and over 40) has already told me she has a plan for making my graying locks look fresh once more. It will not, however, turn back the clock or stop the progression of time. I am getting older. My hair will continue needing help to cover gray until I decide to go with, as my other daughter calls it, my silver lining. When that will happen, I don't know. It will depend on if I decide to grow old gracefully (not very graceful, so I don't know how that will work), or if, like Lauren Bacall, I'll fight it every step of the way.