Like every other skinny woman, she looked naturally good around 20~ with minimal effort, which made her a VIP wherever she went. She consequently built her entire personality, lifestyle, sense of self, and all her relationships around that brief VIP period, even though it fades almost as quickly as they realize they're in it.
It's pure pain for her, from here on out. She will spend the next ten years trying harder and harder to convince herself she doesn't care she's not young and hot anymore, trying to show how completely okay she is with her fading body by showing it off on Instagram and Twitter. If she herself makes fun of how old she's getting, she must be cool with it! She's transcended the pain with irony! Right?
The really sad thing is that this whole process, the whole VIP-to-hag cycle, is such a routine one in our society that men are instinctively on guard against it. Any man with any prospects whatsoever can immediately detect the subtle corpse stink of a 24-30 year old woman who is past her prime. It's impossible to miss. There are a dozen subtle indicators, physical signs that it's happening, of course. But that basic physical decay is also distributed across everything they do. They start dressing and primping differently, paradoxically putting more effort into their appearance even though it's not working nearly as well anymore. Working twice as hard to achieve half the effect, then four times as hard to achieve one fourth, and so on. They invent a new style, but no matter how they experiment with it, they can never make it "cute" again. It's always somehow "mature." The best a 25 year old girl can manage is "my, you're a handsome woman." She will never again be cute. She will never again cause yearning in high-quality men who want to possess her. She has become settlement material, even for second-rate suitors.
The best way that I can describe what is happening to Mira is this. Imagine being at the produce section at the grocery store, and going to buy some of your favorite fruit. As your eyes scan across the fruit on display, you instinctively and imperceptibly skim over the wrinkled ones, the pitted and shriveled ones, the ones that a peasant in the 15th century would be happy to eat but that we have the privilege of discarding today. A firm, taut, luscious, vibrant fruit, one that anyone would have loved to eat two days ago, has been left out just a little too long, and now it's withered and forgotten. At the end of the day, an employee will come by with a cart and throw it and all the other unwanteds in the trash. Meanwhile, the discriminating customer, who might have purchased it had he seen it two days ago, passes over it without even thinking - those are the "bad ones" - and reaches for a newer one. One put out that morning, still full and firm and juicy.
Mira Gonzalez may still be edible, but no one wants her, and no one's mouth will ever water while looking at her, ever again.
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