I Found a Gray Hair on My Areola
Still a Goddess
There I was—naked, mid-shower, loofah in hand, feeling semi-feral and fabulous—when I spotted it.
A single, silver hair curled defiantly on my areola like it had a personal vendetta.
My first thought? What fresh hormonal betrayal is this?
My second? Still a goddess.
Because this body—this curvy, creaky, sensual body—has survived puberty, childbirth, heartbreak, stretch marks, and more pelvic exams than I care to count. If she wants to sprout a silver curl from her sacred circle, who am I to argue?
But let’s be real for a minute:
If this had happened to me in my 30s, I would’ve lost it. I’d have turned it into a crisis. A flaw. A reason to believe I was “less than” or “past my prime.”
Now? I pluck it with one hand while making a grocery list with the other—and maybe I whisper “warrior badge” as I drop it in the trash.
Here’s the truth we’re not told enough:
Aging doesn’t steal your sensuality.
It refines it.
It strips away the bullshit and performance.
It gives you access to deeper desire, richer pleasure, and a relationship with your body that’s rooted in reverence, not insecurity.
I’m still turned on.
Still worth seducing.
Still delicious in the mirror—even when that mirror’s lit by harsh overhead lights in a Walmart dressing room.
And let’s not forget:
If we can survive a rogue nipple hair without spiraling, we can survive anything.
Ready to reclaim your sensuality, your pleasure, and your inner fire—no matter what’s graying, sagging, or shifting?
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The Passion Zone is your permission slip to evolve erotically, not disappear. We grow bolder here. Not quieter.