They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but what about a fresh coat? Nearing my late 50s, and I’ve been chewing on this: I secretly want a makeover. Not the frenzied world’s version—new nose, new hair, new me. Nah, just something to shake the dust off.
It might help with work—90% of my customers are women. When you’re young, they smile easy. Age creeps in, and it’s more like they try to smile—I see it in their eyes every bloody day. A fresher coat might lift them more than me! Evolving’s okay—ditched the flashy phone, cut the schedule clutter—simpler’s better. Still, there’s this itch: a sharper look, a cleaner stride. Not chasing youth or claps; your bone, your bury. Am I overthinking it? How much do we tweak to feel steady without losing the wag? I just wanna roam the park a bit prouder. What’s your secret itch when the mirror barks back?