In my early 40s, it hit me that I was ageing. At first, the physical signs really bothered me. Solving the grey-hair part was easy: I embraced hair dye, rejoicing that I could cheat the grey grim reaper for ever. Next came the wrinkles and saggy bits on my body. I fought them with an array of costly, time-consuming and mostly ineffectual rituals. Seduced by a barrage of ads playing on my fears of growing older, I diligently bought and applied a cupboard full of allegedly age-defying serums and moisturisers to my face and body. But it began to take so much effort, especially the hair. Those darned roots required a fortnightly touchup. I planned my life around the emergence of that badger stripe.

One day in my late 40s, I had an epiphany. What if I just … went grey? It really shouldn’t be a big deal, but for many women it is. No silver-fox badge of honour awaits us: we are likely to be pilloried for “letting ourselves go”. I feared not only being grey, but going grey; facing not so much a bad hair day as a bad hair year. Grey hair would unequivocally position me as old, heralding to everyone that my inevitable downward slide towards invisibility, senility and death had begun. Nonetheless, I decided to try it.

I can’t pretend that I enjoyed the process to start with. My burgeoning roots looked unkempt and it took for ever for the grey to grow out, offering a life lesson in humility and patience. Going grey led me to question the narrative I had mindlessly absorbed over the years: stay young at any cost.

Then, a few months into my great grey grow-out, something unexpected happened. I realised I was starting to enjoy the process. It felt subversive to deviate from the societal diktat that says women must not visibly age. And, as I became more comfortable with my grey hair, I scrutinised the rest of my outlook more closely. Whether or not I now looked older, I realised that I cared less. Casting off society’s expectations was curiously liberating.

Psychological research is clear: a positive outlook towards ageing is mentally and physically healthy. What’s more, there is mounting evidence (explored in books such as Bolder by Carl Honoré) that there are many upsides to growing older. Of course, there are some downsides, but the received wisdom that inevitable decline is to be expected as you age is vastly overstated. As a psychology lecturer and avid consumer of such literature, I knew this in theory, but had still succumbed to the whole anti-ageing narrative. Enough! I was ready for a midlife reboot.

My whole outlook has since shifted. If my exterior wears the patina of age a little more obviously than it used to, well, that’s OK. Fixating on the superficial signs of ageing seems less important. Rather than buying the latest face cream, I’m actively investing in my current and future health more generally because I want to enjoy this phase. Adopting a sense of agency about it all, seeing I have some choices in terms of how I age, makes me feel positively involved in the process.

I’m keen that my daughters grow up aware of these issues and see that an alternative narrative is possible

I have scrutinised my lifestyle and made changes. My diet has improved. I’ve embraced regular exercise, too. If my body is to keep pace with my pro-age stance, I realised it needed serious work. I initially found the gym a scary place. Whereas others were effortlessly crunching, squatting and lunging, I was groaning, creaking and occasionally falling over. But I stuck at it and I’m fitter than I was in my 20s. And of course, it’s not just about the physical stuff. I’ve also adopted other lifestyle changes linked to ageing well, such as remaining socially engaged and challenging my brain.

Going grey was, for me, the conduit to a more spirited enjoyment of life after 50. I have grown bolder in word and deed, less afraid to stray outside my comfort zone. I’ve taken on new projects that challenge the notion that older women become invisible or matter less. I’m a founder member of Advocates for Ageing (a group of pro-age activists) and I have written a children’s book exploring the issues around growing older. Over the past year, I have started to share on social media psychological research around ageing, alongside my reflections and lived experiences. Closer to home, I’m keen that my daughters grow up aware of these issues and see that an alternative narrative is possible.

The process has also had an impact on my job as a university psychology lecturer. My teaching and research activities increasingly focus on ageism and gendered ageism. I relish spirited debates with my young students on these topics. Even at their age, they realise that anti-ageing pressures hold sway. Equipping them with tools to recognise and fight ageism matters.

What started out as an experiment in going grey has ended up being so much more. It has prompted a huge lifestyle reappraisal and a monumental mindset shift. I have learned to befriend ageing, rather than see it as my enemy. I now know that I can play an active part in how my life unfolds after 50. Bring it on.