I stopped dyeing my hair last spring. Not because I suddenly “embraced my inner silver fox” (barf), but because I ran out of f*cks the same week I ran out of root touch-up. My stylist asked if I was sure. I said, “Watch this.” And then I went to brunch. Nobody died. In fact, a 28-year-old told me I looked “powerful.” I wanted to hug her and also ask if she knew where I left my reading glasses.
So go ahead. Be too much. Be too loud. Be too honest. Be too happy. 50 something mag
Then one morning, somewhere around 52, you wake up at 3:47 a.m. to pee for the second time, stub your toe on the nightstand, and realize: I don’t want to be less anymore. I want to be obnoxiously, gloriously, inconveniently more. Here is what nobody tells you about the second half: It is not a decline. It is a rebellion. I stopped dyeing my hair last spring
By Terry McMillan’s fictional best friend (and yours, too) I said, “Watch this
This next act doesn’t require a costume. It requires a megaphone and a very low tolerance for nonsense.
That’s the secret they hide behind the retinol ads: Once the world stops looking at you like a potential piece of meat or a threat to its hierarchy, you can finally move like a ghost who steals what she wants. Attention? Don’t need it. Approval? Got a closet full of it from decades I’ll never get back. Permission? Please. The Three ‘Un-Learnings’ of 50-Something If you’re going to survive—no, thrive —in this decade, you have to unlearn three things immediately:
— From the editors of 50 Something Magazine. Because you’re not old. You’re experienced.
