As I continued to look at my life and remained determined to simplify and minimize I came face to face with aging. In my youth like most kids I didn’t really give my age much thought other than to look ahead at what I could do when I was older. In my twenties I was of course caught up in the beauty game and as I read and reread romance novels and women’s magazines I realized that no matter what I did I wouldn’t measure up. In my thirties I concentrated more on health and fitness as well as happiness and let some of the shallow concepts of the last decade go. As I entered my forties I was again experiencing motherhood in a whole new light and didn’t take the time to take care of myself. I developed an autoimmune disease which changed my perspective on keeping up with the expectations of society. It also changed my priorities. This is when Romantic Minimalism became a part of my life for good. It not only eliminated some of the needless stress in my life but it brought my spirit back to center. That part of me that I neglected since childhood surfaced at a time that I truly needed it the most. I realized that I could either continue to deny that I was getting older and be the woman who just looked like she was trying too hard to be twenty again or I could embrace aging. I could continue to fill my cupboards with paint for my face, hair, and body or I could watch lovingly as my body fades and my spirit becomes brighter. I had watched with envy and aversion the conformist twenty year old women with bleached hair and fake nails thinking that I should conform as well. Many truly beautiful women that had made that same decision to allow nature to take its course were all around me and I saw them for the first time as I made the conscious decision to love myself for who I am and not try to be someone else.