My heart broke reading some of these so apologies for my long spiel.
I was 22. I went from being a very frumpy teenager at 19 to losing four stone in the space of about six months, a 12-14 to a 6-8. I had boundless confidence, looked incredible but also battled a terrible eating disorder and alcohol dependence, that then spiralled into depression and anxiety. I met DH at 19 and by the time we moved out at 22 I had 'ballooned', in which I had put two stone on.
I wrote myself off and over the next four years it spiralled in which I thought I was worthless, ugly etc and my worth centred entirely around my looks. I didn't bother with clothes, hair, makeup etc. I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD around this time and I spiralled further.
At 26 I looked at myself and thought what the fuck are you doing? The change did not come overnight but I started making little improvements. I moved to my sister's hairdressers and booked quarterly appointments in advance so I wouldn't blink and it would be six months later, I began planning my outfits, putting on a little makeup and not just throwing my hair in a bun.
Many may look at the pictures of me at nineteen and then me now and think God she's an ugly pudding but even though I'm now in my late thirties, two kids and a whole lot of life later I think my looks are just blossoming. I take pride in how I look, I treat myself to nice things, I look after myself (my sister and I treat each other to facials every birthday and Christmas and that does make me feel rejuvenated!) I eat well and I drink less and no longer smoke (only maybe once a year with BIL and an awful lot of alcohol and poor decisions at Christmas!)
I love to follow fashion accounts and know what colours I like and don't like and what works best and better yet instead of fading I feel my looks are more vibrant than they ever were in my 'youth'. I have wrinkles on my forehead and laugh lines around my mouth, crows feet under my eyes and some very faded scarring along my arms and nether regions from very dark times in my twenties but I'll never look myself in the mirror again and think 'I hate you' or 'God you're old/ugly' because I reached a point where I truly didn't think I'd reach this age.
Nor would I be able to look my beautiful daughter (or my son) in the face and think god your looks have faded. My attraction to my husband has matured and his now mostly salt and pepper hair is the best thing about him. We need to grant ourselves the same appreciation as others.
My Mum has been very poorly for all of my adult life and my Father died when we were children. My Dad was 'old' but we look back on photos of a man in his late forties and think what a handsome man with such a future ahead of him, we look back on pictures of my mum when she was widowed with two young children at the same age and say 'god she was beautiful', she's the age you all describe and the age your children would say the same. In her fifties when cancer took its toll and her hair thinned and she lost so much weight we admire just how strong her features and her strength is despite how ravaged her body became, in her sixties we awe at how she keeps her hair styled and dresses so nicely, always looks made up and lights up her room. No age has ever dimmed their looks or their light.
Women are conditioned at such a young age to believe beauty equates youth and it doesn't. We grow old and life wears our skin, youth gets left behind but looks never fade, they just wear differently. Your daughters would never look at you and declare you spent and ugly, conversely would you do it to them? We wouldn't so why the fuck do we do it to ourselves?