Age has never been a big deal to me. That’s probably because I would rather hang out with my senior citizen, chain-smoking landlord instead of girls my age when I was in elementary school. I just thought people my age were lame. That carried over into my adult years where I enjoyed hanging out with my great great aunt (who lived to be 100) and my grandfather (who lived to be 95). Neither one of them ever looked their age, so I just shrug at the idea of physically aging. I saw a gray hair yesterday while oiling my hair. But I’ve also seen my aunt (who looks exactly like me) with a gang of grays. Looks dope to me. Every time I see her, I know what I’m going to look like.
I think I would care more if people didn’t squint at me and ask me am I really my age. (I’m 38.) Now if people start guessing that I’m older than I am, I may feel a way. Don’t do the fillers. Angela Bassett looks like she’s staying in shape and naturally healthier, but Vivica Fox just looks like a lot of plastic surgery. I couldn’t be happier that Lisa Bonet and Jasmine Guy look like their actual selves instead of that weird frozen look. I watched that movie “Harriet,” and the guy who sat in the trees to help the slave catcher looks exactly like Michael Jackson would have without all the plastic surgery, finer than a MFer. Just let nature take its course.