How old are you?
Now I know this sounds trivial, but it has somewhat bothered me over the years, as I was told not to ask a grown-up their age. I have always loved knowing ages, birthdays, and middle names of friends and family, or even people I just met.
Why is that not allowed? Why is it considered rude or obnoxious? Age is nothing to be ashamed of or hidden. In this culture, so many things are shamed, while youth and perfection are glorified. When I am very old and very wrinkly, will I be any less important that I am now? I think not. Will I be ugly? I don’t think so. I will look different, that is for sure. I won’t look as I do now.
I think it’s important to step out of the box that our culture has created for us. The box of thinking that worth is tied to beauty, and that beauty is only what you see on in magazines or on tv.
I have 5 more months to be in my twenties, and at first I hated the thought of turning 30. But now I am learning to love it and embrace it, and look forward to it. I plan to feel the same way when I turn 40, 50, 60, 70, and so on. Love your age. You are beauty.
I wrote this during a write-in with Story Sessions. The title is the prompt I was given.
