I love being 48. Not ashamed to own my age. Prepared to flaunt it. Better than the alternative. So what inspires this mutual love affair with my age? Purple hair.
Do you really want an explanation, or, as one of my favorite Harry Potter lines goes, “After all this time, (have you) just learned to go with it?” So, last night was the first dress rehearsal of The Wiz, our community theater production. Last night, I came home with purple hair and purple glittery fingernails. And today, before my haircut appointment, I had to go shopping and commit several other public offenses.
Five years ago, I would never have ventured out of my house with purple hair. I would have been mortified at the thought. What would people think? Say? What children might I frighten? Today, I was completely amused. Now, I imagine what people might say, and it’s fun to let my imagination go. It’s not got far to go. I know what I might have said about a 48-year-old woman with purple hair wearing decidedly not mom-jeans not long ago.
Now, it is so darn much fun not to care. And that’s why I love being 48.
What do you love about your age?