A few grey hairs #NaBloPoMo

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Prompt: Do you enjoy growing older or do you fight against it?

I am sure my answer will change as I age, but I love growing older. In my professional line of work, I am often mistaken for being younger than I really am.

I remind people of their grandchildren.
I look so cute.
I sound so young.
I’m the young lady in the back of the room.
I can’t possibly be old enough to be a pastor.

So…

I am thirty two years old, but when people ask I say I’m in my mid-thirties.

I not only embrace my grey hairs, but I’m looking forward to when they stop looking like highlights and actually are noticeable to other people.

I’m not afraid of getting older. I’m simply waiting for the time when I don’t have to work quite so hard at being taken seriously.

Some look at youthfulness as an advantage.  And, I can’t say that I don’t bring fresh eyes to a situation.  But just because I’m under thirty-five doesn’t mean I speak for all of Gen X, Y, Z, Millenials, and whatever we are calling the tweens with vine accounts these days.

I guess what I’m saying is that I think I’ll appreciate the day when age isn’t the first defining characteristic of my identity people notice.

Then, maybe I’ll worry about getting any older.