It would be nice if the visual signs of ageing didn’t extend past age 30. Once you reached the age cutoff, you’d kick back and relax until you run out of time and expire.
There would be no worrisome thoughts about decrepit skin in your future.
No, mojo “oh-no!”
No, finding doctors to tuck and pluck and cut and sew you into an unrecognizable you.
No, injections of toxic plumper-upper serum.
No, freezing of wrinkles until they submit to your dominion.
None of the above would be necessary to feel relevant in the youth-obsessed culture we’re forced into, like a squirrel too fat for his tree hole.
When it comes to the visible signs of aging, DO NOT DESPAIR!
I figured out why we age.
Forget about all the physiological science stuff.
Those skin signals are for your benefit, kids. They’re a warning to get your shit together. To make amends. To be a better person. To do some good before your time is up. It’s the good you do that will keep you in good standing in the world you’ll be hurrled into after this one.
You gotta be proactive in how your next chapter’s going to turn out, so take a look at yourself in the mirror, no need to go as far as the lighted magnifier, a regular mirror will do. Just look. What do you see?
Our outward signs of aging are The Creator’s signal to us to get it together, to figure it out, before life in this realm is gone.