I too am bothered by women trying to stay young forever–it is very common here in southern California. Forty year olds wearing the skin tight jeans and belly shirts with little back packs and baretts in their hair–almost like a 6th grade child, with florescent nail polish.

I try to go clothes shopping and I can choose between Misses and old lady wear (old lady wear is as if designers gave up and used left over scrapes to piece together whatever) There really isn’t a whole lot out there for a dignified woman that is niether old nor young…and thay may lead many to feel like they have to choose between the two **shrug**

As far as grey, I don’t mind going grey…but not yet, not at 38 years old. I color on occasion when it starts to bother me…and then I let it go when the idea of cost gets to me or I get lazy. Then when the greys overwhelm me and make me “feel” old and tired, I color again for a pick me up. It’s not so much for how I look, but more about how I feel…if that makes sense.

Great topic!

But dying young was part of the rock ‘n’ roll mystique. I read somewhere that Eric Clapton was somewhat disappointed to have not died young.

I am not talking about a sense of wonder and all that. Or spider veins. : )

But our culture is bent on worshiping youth. Even the negative.

This reminds me of a fascinating book I read a few years ago — I wish I could remember the title of it; I think it was “If I Live to Be 100″ — which was a series of interviews with centenarians. The author was looking for the common threads in their lives, what it was that kept them living productive lives for so long.

Here is some age and wisdom; dh sent me this interesting link not long ago:
http://www.markstoryphotography.com/tns.php

As for grey hairs, I have always hoped my hair goes grey so I can wear it long like an old hippie. I always intended to grow old gracefully…but this year, the ten pounds from the last baby are too stubborn, the stretch marks aren’t fading, my hands look worn, there are spider veins appearing on my legs, and I have to keep plucking a hair out of that beauty mark on my chin. I don’t feel very graceful about this — and I can only hope to become wise. But childlikeness…that I will hang onto.

The color on the box was “plum” although looked more of an auburn. I was a little worried for awhile, because the blond streaks really were beginning to look purple.

Thankfully, it toned down to a nice even color. I prefer my own, but it is fun once in awhile, I guess.

Two of the most beautiful ladies that I have known were both over the age of 70. Their hair was silver and their faces glowed. Love bubbled out of them and all over anyone who was blessed to be near. Internal beauty is always more important and these women were radiant.

I echo your sentiments. I want to spend my time trying to be like that rather than worrying about “the effects of time.”