Two.

Two years ago, I wouldn’t be caught dead with my natural hair.

I mean that quite literally – I would think about my funeral, and how I’d have to leave instructions for my friends and family to ensure that my hair was flat-ironed if it was to be an open casket.

I thank God that I’ve changed.

It is because I realized – if one cannot love their most natural self at 21,

(Before they have reached the prime of their life,)

How is one to ever love themselves at 83?

I don’t want to be the old lady who laments her youth. 

I want to be the old lady who closes the photo album and then stands proudly with arms outstretched to say “if you think I was something then, just look at me now!”

- J.

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