Grey is a beautiful color

As I hit my late-thirties, life's become a stroll through everyday moments. Google photos showed me a photo from November last year this day. In a grey suit, I'm just sitting on a comfy ottoman. No big deal. But this moment got me thinking about getting older—entering into another phase of life.

Grey is a such a beautiful color. A color of wisdom, a color of celebrating life and a color of experience that comes with it. I've always found inspiration in those individuals who gracefully embrace the natural process of aging. It's not that I hold anything against those who choose treatments or procedures to reverse the effects of time—to each their own. However, from a young age, I found myself at peace with the idea of aging gracefully and beautifully. Perhaps I am still too young to fully grasp the reality and intricacies of this process of getting old. Maybe it does hit this hard, and coming to terms with it is indeed difficult! It's only a matter of time before I fully understand.

I find these tiny, little imperfections very beautiful. I'm not sure if any of you can relate, but I find these imperfections quite amusing. Those gentle wrinkles that form around the eyes when one smiles, for instance, are a source of beauty for me. There was this girl in my class whose smile had this unique charm, and I'd often find myself standing in front of the mirror attempting to imitate it.

While some might be willing to spend thousands of bucks to erase those fine lines, for me, that subtle imperfection is the most beautiful of all. I find beauty in lashes that are not overly thick and in complexions that don't conform to the so-called standards set by society. In these deviations, I find a uniqueness that diverges from conventional norms.

After all, there's no such thing as perfect, other than the ability of my kids to completely lose the sense of hearing whenever I mention bedtime.

I'm all for dressing up, applying makeup, and making oneself more pretty or handsome. However, I've never been quite comfortable with the idea of altering my features. Some may argue that I don't need to, but I believe there's always room for a little enhancement of our natural features—whether it's a more defined nose or thicker lashes. It's okay to want more of such things.

Speaking of lashes, when it comes to artificial ones, for some reason, I've never been fascinated by this idea. In my society, it's a trend you won't find a single sensible girl skipping, especially on occasions like her big day (her wedding / engagement) or attending a close friend or relative’s wedding. Yet, somehow, I couldn’t ever bring myself up for this. I even had a scolding from my aunt over this; "You are the groom’s sister, what happened to your lashes?" I love her with all my heart. I answered, “See carefully, they are still on my eyes.” She meant the artificial ones, of course. And then I received some more schooling over what else I had not done right. I adore her and didn’t mind her a bit, but she knew that I was never going to listen.

I love the idea of feeling comfortable in my own skin. It wasn't always this way, though. It took time and life's experiences to teach me that beauty, youth, and the like aren't measured by certain standards. Sometimes, it's the way someone talks or conducts him or herself that catches your attention and wins your fondness.

Recently, I've been drawn to individuals who possess a gentle and melodious way of expressing themselves, like the sweetness of honey in their speech. Is it even a right simile? Anyways, these people are like the feathers of a bird—soft, humble, and pleasant; another crafted one — I want to create an image for you. So, there's this lady, sort of like my house help. She comes from a very low socioeconomic background. Trust me, when I tell you that I literally await her arrival every single day. Her presence fills me with joy. The other day I tried to recall her first impression on me, but all I could remember was her beautiful and lovely manners. She has been deprived all her life, having been an orphan since a very young age. Yet, she is the happiest person around me, bringing with her a cheerful charisma.

I believe that people with this kind of beautiful hearts have that charm reflecting in their persona. They ooze positive energy. They have a happy vibe that has a pleasant effect on other people. There is a big wide smile on my face, even now, thinking and writing about her.

I just realized that I have deviated from my topic, which was aging with grace. However, doesn’t all of this fall under the heading of accepting oneself the way one is, whether it's in features or age? I would be lying if I said that beautiful people don’t have an intrinsic edge over the others. But, then, who says that this world is always fair? What they do say is 'Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder!' And they are certainly not wrong. So, perhaps, they need to change their lens if they don’t find you beautiful because, "You, my dear, are beautiful in every single way..."

On a completely different note, I again played with AI image creator today. I provided it the description of my picture (at the top of my essay) and then added, “aging gracefully”. And below are the results:

_{I must say, I am quite impressed!}