Wiser with time: Being OK with signs of aging

I’ve got fears, and then I have irrational, eccentric-and-not-in-a-good-way fears. Alligators fall into the first category. Losing my hair fits in nicely with the second. 

For some reason, my pulse quickens with every strand of hair loss to the brush or down the shower drain. I have stress dreams of waking up with chunks of my mane missing, and I avoid the hairdresser until my hair is a ratted mess.

While around half of women over the age of 50 are subject to thinning hair due to a decrease of estrogen, grand losses of chunks of hair are uncommon. So why do I involuntarily shudder every time I see a shiny, bald dome on a man? It’s someting that I find I can’t shake, no matter how invalid and rude it may be.

Perhaps I can attribute some of this fear to my ever-increasing awareness of my age. As addressed in one of my earlier columns, I spotted my first grey hair when I was 14. But this premature strand of silver gave me another warped perception into aging locks — I never have, and never will associate grey hair with age, only with teenage worries like summer camp and crushes. Because my first grey hair carries connotations of teenage angst, I have replaced my grey-haired aging worries with worries of hair loss, no matter how impossible they may be.

Trying to dispel my bald-head overreaction, I’ve tried to bring the laissez-faire attitude I’ve managed to have toward greying hair and attach it to hair loss. Scrutinizing pictures of bad comb-overs and Charles Xavier, I’ve realized that I’ve been approaching it all wrong. I’ve been approaching the hype and concerns around aging — that obscure and vindictive term — all wrong.

What if we adapted this grey-hair acceptance towards all mature features that appear as our age ticks upwards? Instead of fighting the silver and receding hairlines, we looked at these attributes as badges of honor — that we’ve made it through life with a trove of wisdom, experience, and maturity. While tight skin and shiny locks are desirable to all, what if society put these characteristics second to features that hint at the wisdom behind them?

I’m slowly starting to realize that my fear of losing my hair is irrational in more ways than one. These aging qualities come with so much more than their physical tolls — they come with a life lived and experiences had. And how can I ever be afraid of that?