“older women are like aging strudels – the crust may not be so lovely, but the filling has come at last into its own.” // r.f. capon

since i’m becoming more well-versed on the subject as each day passes, i’ve realized the thing about growing older that has proven itself to be the biggest thorn in my side.

it’s that moment you realize that although the candles on your birthday cake necessitate the proximity of a fire extinguisher, it’s that the number doesn’t really scan with how old you might feel, but like, reallyreally feeeeel, on the inside.

chronologically – my age is that of a well-rooted, and many runged tree; but in my heart of hearts, it doesn’t quite make sense. i say it’s just a number, and that all that matters is how you feel, but what if how you feel is both wonderfully adolescent, paired with a side order of fossilized and aged? how does one reconcile being both young and getting old(er) at once?

if it’s a matter of a weapons-grade wrinkle cream, coexisting with a robust pimple potion – then i’ve got this aging thing down to a science.

oh, my back hurts.





➝ source : benefiance wrinke-resist via shiseido

➝ source : irish moor mud via peter thomas roth

➝ source : rêve de miel balm via nuxe

➝ source : lha cleansing gel for skin that is both getting old and is spotty, hooray – via skinceuticals


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