I tell young people, when I was 18, I'd primp and comb and make-up for hours on end. Then I turned 30 and I realized that I only had so much to work with and to try to improve. Now I look in the mirror and just say "thank you." Being alive is just as nice with a size 35 waist, boobs hanging low enough to contribute to that 35 waist, and a few wrinkles. In fact it is nicer because I don't have to impress anyone or fit into anything. While I was never a raving beauty I'm still fairly attractive just in case anyone wants to look. It is comforting knowing that when watching TV and the Super Models with their perfect make-up, fantastic body and full hair, that we're all headed in the same direction. So "don't hate me because I'm beautiful" (remember that commercial), just love me because I'm old.