The Mirror Doesn’t Lie- who invited this grown woman into my bathroom mirror?

In My Mind I’m Still in My 20s, Yet the Mirror Shows My Body and Skin Changing

There are days I catch my reflection and do a double take. Like—wait a second, who invited this grown woman into my bathroom mirror? Because in my mind, I’m still in my 20s. I still feel like that girl who could run on caffeine and chaos, wear heels for twelve hours straight, and recover from heartbreak with a wild night out and some red lipstick.

But the mirror? The mirror has opinions.

She’s been showing me things lately that my mind hasn’t quite agreed to yet—fine lines where laughter lived, softer curves that weren’t there before, skin that suddenly needs more attention, more moisturizer, more sleep, more… everything.

It’s a weird, humbling thing—to still feel young inside but realize your body has started writing a different story.

The Mirror Doesn’t Lie (But She Doesn’t Know Everything Either)

I used to think “aging gracefully” was about serums and SPF. And yes, those help (a lot). But no one tells you how it feels emotionally—how jarring it can be when your reflection no longer matches the image your mind holds of you.

I still walk past store windows expecting to see that 25-year-old me: tan, bright-eyed, and a little too confident for her own good. Instead, I see someone who looks more grounded, more knowing… and sometimes more tired.

And I’ll be honest—there are mornings it hits harder than others.

Like when I notice the way my skin doesn’t bounce back as fast, or how my eyes look a little different in natural light.

That’s when I feel this small ache, like losing a version of myself I didn’t even realize I’d been clinging to.

But then I remind myself—she’s still here. Just in a different form.

The Girl Inside Me Still Dances

The funny thing about aging is that inside, nothing really changes. I still feel like the same woman who belts songs in the car like no one’s watching, who flirts with life itself, who believes in reinvention, who has dreams bigger than sleep.

If anything, I’ve just learned to hold those things more gently now.

The dance is softer, the laughter deeper. I move through the world slower—but with more intention.

Sometimes I joke that my body and my mind are in different time zones. My body’s on “realistic Pacific Time” while my mind is somewhere in the reckless, glow-lit past.

And honestly? I think that’s okay.

The Things No One Told Us

No one really warned us that your 30s, 40s, and beyond come with a strange kind of identity shift. You start noticing things your younger self never thought twice about—your posture, your energy, the way your confidence feels less performative and more peaceful.

The world keeps trying to sell us “anti-aging,” but I don’t want to anti anything. I just want to exist fully in every stage of my life.

Because truthfully, I earned every change.

Those faint lines around my eyes? I got them laughing through hard seasons.

That little softness in my stomach? Proof that I’ve lived, eaten, celebrated, survived.

The tiny scar above my lip? A reminder that I’ve rebuilt this face—literally—and it still smiles back at me.

So no, I don’t need to chase the version of me that once was. I can honor her and still be grateful for the woman I’ve become.

The New Kind of Beauty

These days, beauty feels less about how I look and more about how I feel.

It’s in the calm I’ve cultivated.

It’s in how I no longer beg people to stay.

It’s in the quiet confidence that comes from knowing who I am, even as my skin and body evolve.

The girl who once needed the world’s validation has grown into a woman who only needs her own.

And sure—sometimes that woman still wakes up, catches her reflection, and goes, “Oh wow, we’re really doing this aging thing.” But then she shrugs, laughs, puts on her moisturizer like armor, and goes about her day—grateful she still gets to live in this body, even when it’s changing.

Still That Girl, Just a Little Wiser

So maybe the truth is: I’ll always feel 25 somewhere inside me.

That version of me isn’t gone—she’s the heartbeat underneath everything I’ve become. She’s what makes me spontaneous, curious, playful.

But the woman I am now? She’s stronger. She’s been through hell and made it holy again.

And when I look in the mirror now, I don’t see loss—I see layers.

I see a body that’s weathered storms and still stands tall.

I see skin that’s carried me through every heartbreak and every healing.

I see a face that still smiles, even when life didn’t go as planned.

So yes, in my mind I’m still in my 20s.

But in my heart—I’m right where I’m meant to be.

☕️ Here’s to every woman who still feels young inside, even as the mirror tells a different story.

You’re not fading—you’re unfolding.

And trust me, that kind of beauty only gets better with time.

In My Mind, I’m Still in My 20s

In my mind,

I’m still in my 20s —

still the girl who walks fast, laughs loud,

wears too much perfume,

and believes every heartbreak is temporary.

In my mind, I still run.

I still throw on heels at midnight

and promise myself I’ll only stay for one drink.

I still chase sunlight and wild things.

I still dream like the world hasn’t yet broken me.

But the mirror…

The mirror tells a different story.

She catches me softly —

tracing the edges of time across my skin,

the fine lines where joy and exhaustion

shook hands and called it peace.

My body moves slower now,

but she moves wiser.

She knows the weight of carrying

a thousand comebacks.

She’s walked through fire barefoot,

and still found a way to dance.

There are mornings I miss her —

the girl who didn’t know the price

of being alive.

But I wouldn’t trade her for me.

Not now.

Not after everything I’ve learned

about softness,

and staying.

In my mind, I’m still in my 20s.

But in my bones, I’m eternal —

built of lessons,

of laughter,

of everything I thought I lost

but somehow became.

So yes — the mirror has changed me.

But maybe she’s just showing me

the woman my younger self

was always meant to become.