Am reading a book my daughter picked up in some airport by Nora Ephron with the rather odd title "I feel bad about my neck". The contents lead me to wonder why so many women (and men too) spend so much time, money and effort on painting and preening themselves to make believe (after layers of make-up, eyelashes, dyed hair and the rest) they are something they definitely are not.
Whatever happened to growing old gracefully, being attuned to yourself and the world and liking who, and at what stage of life you are.
Frankly, I find age incredibly liberating and enjoy seeing weathered faces full of life-experience and character rather than painted stick-insects on cat-walks and other so called walks of fame.
If I painted myself up and wore 6" heels into town a few people might stare as at a rarey show, yet when I wear a happy smile and my farm gear a lot of people I don't know from Adam stop to greet me or at least smile back.
I use Skin Repair for everything and have a weekly massage, the first to keep my skin supple the latter to balance out invariably overworking in the garden.
If God, whover She is, accepts me as I am (to date I have only been granted rainbows not thunderbolts) I am content. Mankind can do as it likes, that is not my concern.
After all, only Allah is perfect.