Yesterday, I went bra shopping. I know, depressing. As I stood in front of the mirror in a bra that was too small and squished everything out every corner it could squish. I looked old. I noticed the slight wrinkles developing in my neck, the fat rolls between the bra and the waist of my pants, my hair was all a mess. I looked old. I left the store with no bra and no self-esteem. As I was driving back to work, it occurred to me. No wonder my last boyfriend didn’t want to keep me. He has a lady who is a millionaire after him and she can pay to keep her body looking as young as she needs it to. I sunk deeper into my depression. Then! I thought of a line from a Kirstie Alley movie. I think it is called Perfect People or something. She was telling her boyfriend that if we waited too long to propose to her, he would be too old and nobody would want his wrinkly old ass. Including her… OMG! I think I am there and I am only 48 years old. As I looked in that mirror, I may as well have been 88 for all the hope I had of finding love again. I was sad and depressed for the rest of the day. Not usually one to succomb to defeat, age just might be the first thing to ever really kick my butt.