Welcome to Following the Whispers blog
Thank you so much for taking the time to visit. Hope you enjoy your stay. I blog here whenever I feel the need. This blog was created at the time my memoir came out, in February, 2009. Its motto was: creating a life of inner peace and self-acceptance from the depths of despair. Now, my focus is sharing this journey we call life.
“Only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth, and that is not speaking it.” Naomi Wolf
“We are called human beings, not human doings.” Wes Nisker, Buddhist teacher
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs…(And) if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Theodore Roosevelt
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I don't know if I'm resurrecting the hippie days of the 60's or what, but I seem to be in a phase of going natural. Last year, I stopped dyeing my hair. It is white. One friend in particular, makes no bones about repeatedly telling me she thinks I'm nuts. She tells other friends about me, saying, "I have a cute friend, but she insists on keeping her hair white." Ouch. Does that mean I'm not attractive because of my white hair? Photo at the right was an in-between stage.
In our society, white haired ladies are considered old. I no longer want to buy into the culture that says only young, pretty, thin, rich, white, etc. counts. But still, it hurt when she said that. Because part of me still wants to be young and pretty. Well, that ain't happening. I'm 61 years old. I may be thinner than I've been for most of my adult life, but I still have old lady arms (skin that sags and wrinkles like elephant skin). My face is beginning to have lines and crags. And yesterday I found out that cataracts are beginning to form in my eyes.
So, if I dye my hair again to look younger, does that mean I should have plastic surgery to fix the skin on my arms and a face lift to remove wrinkles and crags. I don't think so. I opt for accepting this journey I'm on, wrinkles and all. My hubby thinks I'm beautiful no matter what. He fell in love with me when I was 183 pounds. What a gift that was--to know I was loved for who I am, not for what I look like.
So, as the old Ethel Merman song goes, "I'm doin' what comes naturally...."
How about you?