There comes a time in a woman’s life when everything starts to sag. For me, that journey southward didn’t begin with my breasts, or even my butt, but under my eyes. As the years passed, ever more noticeable bags emerged, and my eyes grew puffier and droopier.
I tried reminding myself that superficial signs of age didn’t matter, especially as I saw friends getting sick around me, dealing with chemo and matters of life and death (another sign of my age). I tried volunteering, tried being grateful for all the blessings in my life. Yet whatever I did, I continued to care too much that my eye bags were doubling, two under each eye, along with my chin.
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