I look younger than I truly am, until one takes a look at the supportive structures.
Then the true horror of the familial curse sinks in.
Having the knees of someone twice my age with the outward appearance of someone three fourths my age is quite a quandary.
Without divulging too much: I could buy my own cigarettes at 14, but after 30, no one could guess my age or weight.
Somewhere, I got “hard muscle” genes and at the same time, smooth skin.
There are only a couple of places on me that are “soft.”