Don't look back, look angry!

As I plummet towards the unavoidable depths of my 50th birthday I've had to drag out some photos showing me at various ages - apparently they are going to be projected scary-size across the walls of the party venue (why? - do I really want to be reminded of those line free days?). Found my partner gazing lovingly at them - we've been together for 18 months so he's only known me in my crone years. "Oh," he said. "You used to be so beautiful." Used to be. USED TO BE! Is this really what it's come to? I would have cried, but black mascara'd crows feet look so unfetching.

Why is it that when we're young we don't even notice our smooth peachy skin, lustrous hair, cellulite-free limbs? Is it only when they are gone that we appreciate their loveliness? If I met my old self now I'd kick me really hard for not enjoying myself more!!