When I first received the pictures from this photoshoot (which, for the record, I absolutely adore), I momentarily considered asking the photographer to touch up my face. While I got over this reaction almost immediately, I cannot deny this happened*. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t have that impulse because I thought I looked ugly (this has happened on countless occasions), but because I looked old. Or perhaps more precisely, I looked my actual age: in the harsh light outside, you can pretty much count every single one of my 41 years on my face.