Confronted by my reflection at every turn, I armed myself with expensive beauty products
I have a theory – largely untested – that everyone is mentally “stuck” at a certain age: the one that best reflects their outlook. Mine is 17. At my core, I see myself as youthful, enthusiastic and not yet tainted by the bitterness of experience. I’m optimistic and forward-looking. A woman in my prime.
But increasingly, the face and form I see reflected back in the mirror are none of those things. At first I blame harsh lighting for my transformation. Then I realise it’s natural light coming in from the skylight, not the gentle artificial light of a boutique store change room. There is, quite simply, nowhere to hide.
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