Written for Jayden as part of the one word prompt meme.

It was only natural that her looks would change as she grew older. After three children, her figure wasn't going to be exactly the same as it was when she was eighteen, and all women got crow's feet and laugh lines once they hit their forties. Of course her hair wasn't going to stay its glossy chestnut color forever.

She knew very well that aging was only a part of life, and that she didn't need to fear it.

But every now and then, Miaka would look at herself in the mirror and come to regret it. She hated the way her crow's feet and laugh lines made her face look like a giant prune, or the gray hairs that were getting harder and harder to hide every day. The lower half of her body had filled out to the point where she was a certifiable pear-shape figure, and her bra was the only thing keeping her breasts from sagging. She didn't even bother to color her hair anymore, it was just too much of a hassle, so the gray was there on display for all to see.

The mirror had become her worst enemy.

You're not ugly, you're just getting older, she reminded herself, but if that was the case, why did she know at least two other women her age or older who could still pass for twenty? Because they groom themselves and dress well, she thought, but even with her best grooming and most flattering clothes, people could still tell she'd just turned fifty, she knew they could.

Miaka dimly remembered her mother looking in the mirror and groaning at her gray hairs and crow's feet, and at the time she'd rolled her eyes and thought how could anyone be so vain. Her mother was silly, lamenting her fading beauty, blaming it for the fact that Daddy had left and constantly worrying whether her new boyfriend would find her attractive with her looks fading rapidly every day.

She understood now. It was hard not to hate one's appearance even if it was only nature causing its imperfections.

You're not ugly, she reminded herself again, forcing herself to gaze upon her reflection. You're not ugly. It's nature, it's a part of life. But all she could see were wrinkles and droopy breasts and graying hair and wide hips, and it was all she could do not to cry as she tore her gaze away from the mirror.

I am ugly! The words were on her lips, begging to be shouted into the empty room-

-and suddenly she heard footsteps, felt a pair of hands on her waist, heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, beautiful."

She turned her gaze to the mirror, saw herself being embraced by a body as aged as hers, and her frustrations melted away.

"Tamahome," she whispered, leaning back into his embrace. Suddenly it didn't matter that her body looked like a pear with sagging breasts and wrinkles, or that her hair was already half-gray; she certainly didn't mind his gray hair and wrinkles, the fact that he was getting stockier by the day...she certainly didn't mind his newfound need for reading glasses.

To her, he was as breathtaking as the day she'd met him, and she knew he felt the same about her.

It didn't matter what the mirror said, as long as he loved her she would always feel beautiful.