Dear Age n. Gravity,

It has recently come to my attention that you have been very busy altering my personal space, to wit: the actual physical body which I inhabit. I realize that time marches on and you have a job to do, and I am willing to work with you so that both of us are mutually satisfied in our relationship.

I did not complain when the crow’s feet appeared at the outer corners of my eyes, because I am generally a pleasant person, given to easy laughter, and I expect my good humor to show itself in my face. Nor did I complain about the puffy eyelids, because I felt the need to give you some latitude in your duties, and you have, after all, left my hair dark for far longer than I ever expected to be a brunette. I did not even mention the enlarged pores on my face, because, frankly, they were never small to begin with, and one just learns to live with certain things after nearly four decades of life.

However, your latest act is unacceptable, and I believe it is in clear contradiction to the User Agreement I consented to in my teens. It was totally unfair of you to wreak havoc on my rack while I was pregnant and nursing babies and therefore unable to keep careful tabs on exactly what was going on with my breasts. I find your behavior appalling and your disregard for my feelings unconscionable. I hereby demand that you retrieve these shapeless bags of goo that you placed on my chest and bring me back my BOOBS.

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