The Beauty That Time Can’t Touch
Beauty is the first thing the world measures in a woman, whether she consents to the measurement or not. When I was a younger, thinner, smoother version of myself, aging felt like something theoretical. I didn’t appreciate the symmetry of my face or the curve of my hips or the cush in my tush.
That’s the thing about youth: it feels permanent when you’re standing inside it and prescient when you’re not.
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