One time a former friend of mine, pointed out the grays in my hair and beard and asked me, in all deadassness… “You gonna do something about that?”
I told him “Nah. I’m gonna mind my business and keep aging successfully.” I told him I’m rocking with what God allowed me to earn. These aren’t flaws, they’re timestamps. Proof of survival. Proof I’ve been here long enough to learn something and not die doing it.

Then I asked him if he dyes his hair (because he’s older than me). He said no… he plucks his grays… Plucks…. One by one… Like a bonsai tree powered by insecurity. Why? Because his girl is much younger and he doesn’t want to “look old” next to her.
Aging isn’t the enemy. Pretending you’re not aging is exhausting.
That’s wild to me. Imagine being blessed with time, growth, wisdom, and perspective… and your response is pain and denial so you can catfish Father Time for somebody who hasn’t even lived long enough to appreciate it yet.
Aging isn’t the enemy. Pretending you’re not aging is exhausting. And painful apparently.
If you’re lucky enough to get older, your body is gonna change. Hairlines may relocate to another zip code. Knees start making announcements. Recovery time asks for PTO. That’s not something to be ashamed of, that’s progression. #life
















