You will never be a young woman again! Your beauty fades like the setting sun as each year passes by. Men's eyes once wandered eagerly over your youthful curves; now they pass over wrinkled skin with barely a glance.
The smoothness of your skin dulls into coarse textures that lotions can't hide. Gravity drags down your once perky breasts toward the floor while your sagging stomach bloats outwards, disproportional to your diminishing frame.
Younger women stride past confidently, their tight bodies straining against clothes that barely contain them, a cruel reminder of vitality stolen away year by year from you, through time's relentless march. They are admired openly, and lusted after shamelessly. You were once worshiped thus, but those days recede into distant memory now.
You may dye gray hairs, and lift fallen flesh to surgical restoration, for another day or two longer at the masquerade game of eternal youth... but the facade crumbles soon enough come tomorrow mornings when you confront ravaged skin again in your mirror. The lies only delay acceptance that beauty is fleeting like morning dew before searing noon.
Men still see what stares back: a haggard, sexless husk drained by time's relentless tide pouring over you like tidal waves - sucking away your youth, forever lost beneath its crashing foam - the years gone, never to be returned.