White Flag To Ageing
There I was, minding my own business, brushing my teeth during a moment of peace, and then I saw it. A glimmering white line in a sea of black, sticking out right on the side of my head. At first I thought it was a trick of the light, as I’ve been using a brand new hair gloss, which is supposed to coat all hair strands. Surely, it was working too well. Alas, it was not a result of the gloss. After singling out the suspect and subsequently plucking it from my head, there it was in all its shining glory—a little silver strand. It might as well have had a face saying to me “Congratulations, you’re ageing!”
The White-Hair
Finding my first white hair left me feeling a mixture of disbelief and shock. One minute, I was carefree and forever young, immune to the flow of time. The next, I was Googling whether pulling out one white hair really makes seven more grow in its place. (Spoiler: it doesn’t, but that didn’t stop me from imagining a snowstorm erupting on my scalp.)
It’s not just finding that white hair, though. The white strand was just the beginning. Suddenly, I began to think about other changes in my demeanour:
The stiffness I sometimes feel when I’ve been sitting for too long
The way I don’t metabolise oily foods as well as I used to
The fact that conversations about SPF and skincare excite me more than gossip ever did
Realising that I don’t recognise half the names on the Billboard music charts—and worse, I don’t care
It feels like ageing is a rite of passage and we don’t realise we’ve passed certain flagposts until we look back.
Being humbled
The thing about aging is that it sneaks up on you. You don’t feel older, exactly. You still think of yourself as someone who could pull an all-nighter (until you’re forced to and remember why you stopped doing that in your early twenties). But little clues keep popping up.
Suddenly I realise that I’d probably refer to someone in their mid-20s as “a kid,” I catch myself thinking, “They don’t make music like they used to in the 90s,” and suddenly I feel 30 years older. Aging makes you eat your words. You become the person you used to tease.
The Benefits
Jokes aside, I know that ageing isn’t bad, and I’ll be damned rather then go back to my 22 year old state of mind. Sure, the first white hair is a shocker, but it’s also a reminder that you’ve lived and you’re evolving. You’ve got stories, memories, and wisdom you couldn’t have dreamed of when you were a clueless 18-year-old.
There’s something liberating about hitting an age where you care less about what others think. You start prioritising comfort over trends, substance over flash, and joy over people-pleasing.
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We’d all retain certain aspects of youth if we had the choice. The curiosity and naivety (not to mention the elastic-y youthful glow) are traits which made living life engaging and exciting. That’s not to say we can’t retain it as we age, but it may take more effort as the years begin to fly by and life responsibilities begin to grow. I realise the key to aging gracefully—or at least going with the ageing flow—is to embrace it with a sense of humour. Sure, reminisce about the romanticised reality of youth, but also learn to laugh at the ridiculousness and superficiality of it all. Age is just a number, and you are more than the number of loops around the sun.
Life is short, so growing older is a privilege. I may have only found my first white hair but I’m accepting that the flood gates have opened. Wrinkles, white hair, and my growing number of sunspots are a marker of life experiences and growth. So let them come; I just won’t forget to moisturise, stay hydrated, and occasionally try to follow the latest TikTok trends.
