I recently made a questionable footwear choice at the park. I slipped on my black fabric sneakers, which my friend Jamie jokingly dubbed my “skater shoes.” They offer zero support, yet I adore their style. They give off a youthful vibe, looking simple and fun. They embody a carefree, laid-back attitude—everything I aspire to be.
Now, I’m regretting my decision as my shins are throbbing—I even took three extra-strength pain relievers, which is definitely one too many. But boy, did we have a blast! We sprinted from the “little kid area” to the “big kid zone” repeatedly. My daughter is perfectly balanced between both, and it’s a fresh adventure for both of us.
In those sneakers, I kept pace as she tackled the rock wall, navigated the wobbly bridge, and zipped down the “big awesome tunnel” slide, as she calls it. Those shoes empowered me to conquer my claustrophobia and fear of heights, allowing me to be the fun mom I always dreamed of being.
I felt compelled to move faster because that’s what those sneakers represent—the energy of kids, young moms, and perhaps even my own inner child. Now, though, I’m contemplating a hair makeover, and I find myself saying, “I love ____, but I’m too old for that.”
Fill in the blank with pastel pink, lavender gray, moody dark auburn, or chunky bleached streaks. Every idea spirals into overthinking and self-doubt, leading me to question my right to express myself. Looking at hairstyles online often feels like a therapy session. My hair seems stagnant, even as I evolve.
I’m becoming bolder and more at ease in my own skin, trying not to overthink the implications of choosing vibrant hair colors or sparkly glasses. I refuse to let age define what I can do or how I can look—especially when I’m that almost 50-year-old mom chasing my 3-year-old through Nomahegan Park, sporting the “wrong” sneakers and enjoying life more than the other moms with their conventional hair.
I also refuse to think I’m too old to pursue my passions—like being a mom and a writer. I’m crafting my own story, which includes wearing those imperfect sneakers, even if my shins protest the next day. I’ve decided to color my hair some wild hue soon. I refuse to overthink the things that spark joy for me. I’ll embrace every bit of it.
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Summary
Life is too short to overthink personal choices. Embrace what you love, whether it’s quirky sneakers or vibrant hair. It’s all about enjoying the journey without the weight of judgment.