If someone had told me when I was younger that I would feel more beautiful in my fifties than ever before, I would have scoffed derisively.
In ‘those days’ – from childhood to 40 – my relationship with my body was based entirely on how it looked and whether it met the grade of whatever aesthetic and fashion standard was set at the time. This in itself was an exhausting exercise, being ever at the mercy of the latest trends and ‘must looks.’ Continue reading “Growing Old Beautifully and Looking Back with Understanding”