Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

As I've been out and about lately, I've found myself in a period of reflection, thinking about the colorful beginnings of my career. Back when I was the youngest – usually the only woman in the room, little did I know I was carving out my own little niche in the world. Those were my days of proving what I was made of, with my youth and gender acting as a cloak that sometimes made me invisible but yet asked to take a coffee order in a board room. That invisibility and sometimes insult wasn't a hindrance; it was a secret passage that allowed me to grow, to surprise others, to stand tall and pave the way for my future.

Mother Time, the artist that she is, painted wisdom into my years, and I rose through the corporate ranks, eventually wildly stepping into the entrepreneurial world. Still often the only woman in the mix, my voice grew stronger, and my presence became something that could no longer be overlooked, even if the spotlight sometimes felt a bit too hot. Each decision I made, each little triumph, and the occasional stumble – they all felt larger than life, but they were the fires that tempered my resolve and sharpened my vision.

Now, here I am, my hair turned to white, often the most seasoned in the room. Sometimes, my white locks seem to announce 'Here comes the old woman' before I even get a word out. I've toyed with the idea of returning to hair dyes, wondering if I might reclaim some camouflage. But then, would I be hiding? Or just obscuring the rich stories each white hair has to tell?

This stage of my life, with its white-haired badge and some judgments that seem to come with it, is complex, sure. But it's also deeply rich with narratives of endurance and persistence. Now, my presence is a testament to a life lived with intention and tenacity. The scrutiny has changed – it's now mixed with age-old clichés about what it means to grow older.

Yet, every morning, as I catch my reflection, I tell myself that this white hair isn't just a tally of years; it's a crown of wisdom, a collection of victories, big and small, and a treasure trove of lessons earned. It's the hallmark of a life embraced with zest, of a woman who's grown not just older, but bolder, with a well of knowledge and stories ready to be shared.

Stepping through this part of my life, I've embraced the exposure to let my voice carry not just my own stories but to offer guidance, to mentor, and to redefine what it means to be a woman with a rich past and a vibrant present.

Transitioning from the fresh-faced, often solo woman to a white-haired matriarch has been a remarkable journey. It's a chapter I am slowly learning to hold dear, not run and hide - a role that lets me leave a legacy, challenge the old stereotypes, and show that all our contributions only grow more profound with time.

My story is a testament that our value isn't tied to the color of our hair but to the depth of our experiences and the size of our hearts. And that's a message I work hard to carry with pride and not embarrassment – I will admit there are times it is not easy, but this white hair is a badge of honor.

I share my story as a reminder that our voices and contributions are valuable at every stage of our lives regardless of the whiteness of our hair.