Aging Gracefully (And WIth Purple Hair)

Aging Gracefully (and Loudly, with Purple Hair)

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I dye my hair purple because I love it. Not because I’m afraid of going gray. Not because I’m trying to look younger. I do it because it makes me feel like me. And honestly, after spending decades trying to fit in, conform, shrink myself, and “age appropriately,” I’m just not doing that anymore.

Aging gracefully doesn’t mean quietly fading into the background. For me, it means growing into myself more fully and unapologetically. It means knowing what I like, what I don’t, and refusing to feel guilty about either. It means saying “no thank you” to anti-aging creams that cost as much as my first car, and “hell yes” to radical self-acceptance.

So, what’s with all the fear?

Let’s talk about why so many of us are afraid of aging. Spoiler alert: it’s not really about the wrinkles.

It’s about visibility. Value. Worth. We live in a culture that practically worships youth. The smooth skin. The flat stomach. The endless energy. And every magazine ad, social media filter, and “miracle” product is designed to remind us that the clock is ticking—and that aging is something to battle, not embrace.

There’s an entire industry built on making us feel like crap about the perfectly natural process of getting older. And if you need proof, look no further than some of the products out there:

• Sheep placenta face cream (because apparently we’re supposed to smear farm animals on our faces now)

• Snail mucin serums (yes, literal snail slime—slather it on and hope for miracles)

• LED light masks that make you look like a futuristic serial killer (but, you know, youthful)
  24k gold-infused collagen shots (because aging is bad but drinking gold is fine?)

• And my personal favorite: “face yoga” mouthpiece tools that you bite down on and flex like you're training for the Olympics… with your jaw.

Can we just take a breath?

Self-Acceptance is Not Complacency

Let me be clear—self-acceptance doesn’t mean giving up. It doesn’t mean you stop caring about your health or your appearance. I work with women every day who want to feel better in their bodies, clean up their clutter, and take control of their lives. That’s empowerment, not vanity.

And just so we’re all on the same page here: I love makeup. I mean love it. A bold lip, a fierce liner (even if it smudges onto my hooded, saggy eyelids), a little shimmer on the brow bone—I’m in. I don’t wear makeup because I hate my face. I wear it because it’s fun, creative, and makes me feel more like myself. And yes, sometimes it’s also about trying to make my tired, droopy lids look a little more awake—and that’s okay, too.

I also use really good creams in the morning and at night—because dry skin is rude and I like to feel nourished, not flaky. And I avoid the sun like it’s my job. Not because I’m hiding, but because I have no interest in inviting sunspots, premature wrinkles, or melanoma into my life. Skin cancer is real (and it runs in the family)l. Sun damage is real. The fact that staying out of the sun also helps me not “look my age”? Sure, that’s a perk. But let’s be clear—I’m protecting my health, not chasing eternal youth. And I’m not going to apologize for that.

Here’s the thing: taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you’re afraid of aging. It means you’re allowed to show up in this world however the hell you want—hydrated, radiant, winged liner drooping into your crease and all.

We have to separate wanting to feel our best from the pressure to erase every sign that we’ve lived.

Every laugh line tells a story. Every stretch mark, every scar, every strand of silver hair is a reminder that we’ve been through some stuff. And guess what? We’re still here. That’s not something to be ashamed of. That’s something to celebrate.

Ready to lighten up and let go of the clutter (mental, emotional, physical, or otherwise) that’s weighing you down?
Let’s design your healthy life strategy together.
Click here to book your free session and take the first step toward feeling strong, grounded, and gloriously you—at any age.