I'm just me and that's just fine

I turn 45 this year. I remember a time when anyone in their late 30's was considered old, and now, I'm five years away from 50. A half a century. That's no spring chicken, but in this 44th year of my life, I have come to a place where I realize that age "ain't nothing but a thang." Pardon my slang, but seriously, it's just a number, and some marvelous stepping stones come with age. I know more than ever how unique and wonderful I am. This is not vanity. It's a gift that comes to those whose skin isn't quite as tight as it once was. I recall, when in my youth, that a day never went by where I didn't wish to look or be like someone else. My teeth were too big, my hair too coarse, I was too loud, too short, too...too...too. Then as the years went by, and I don't know exactly why, but I started comparing myself less to others and focusing on what was right with me. The more self-examination I practiced, the more aware I became of me as a person. I longed less to look like anyone but myself, and I stopped sizing myself up against other women. I focused on what was inside and took the best care I could of what I had on the outside. Inside...I needed some work. I spoke horribly to myself, and I allowed the voices of those who have spoken offensively to me to have a home in my thoughts. Every time a negative thought would arise, I reminded myself that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am unique and set apart. For every negative, I replaced with a positive. Now nearing half a century, I can honestly say I am comfortable in my skin. I don't dwell on the things out of my control, and I certainly don't wish to be anyone but me. Sure, I still wish I had longer hair. But now, rather than covet the hair of others, I appreciate its beauty, compliment its owner and carry on. Do I notice my wrinkles? You betcha! But I don't see myself as unattractive. Funny, when my skin was taunt and smooth, when the glow of youth illuminated from my person, I saw nothing right and everything wrong. Now, I see the effects of gravity, the whitening of my hair, and spots that show my age and rather than detest them, I accept them as a reward for surviving my self-loathing years. Self-acceptance doesn't mean I won't color my hair, use moisturizer to slow the aging process or search tirelessly for the holy grail of foundations. It simply means I have come to a place where I really like myself, who I am as a person isn't defined by the firmness of my thighs. I'm free to be me. It's kinda great getting older. Life is certainly less about the physical and more about living well. Age doesn't afford you an unawareness that you're becoming a fixer upper, but it does allow you to focus on what matters; family, friends, personal growth. When your hips ache and eyes blur, you can laugh a little rather than groan about years gone by. In truth, I am doing more in my forties than I did in twenties. Yeah, sometimes it hurts (most the time, it hurts) but I'm happy, and I'm blessed. I wouldn't go back or be anyone else even if I could.