I just wanted to do something for myself. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/48a23d/620x0/1/0/2025/03/29/jmqyhszqpakykkhlpir alt = "old lady @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (161,148,140,1)" > < p > after so many years of work, concern for home, children, grandchildren … I wanted to feel a woman for a while, not only duty.

< p > When I entered the living room, I felt a familiar smell of nail polish, coffee and perfume.

< p > I smiled at the beautician.

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; I have free today. Maybe some nails to improve mood ? &

< p > I sat down. There were two young girls next to me. They laughed. Loud.

< p > I thought it was a simple conversation.

< p > only after a while I realized that M & Amp; Oacute; I have about me.

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; see, has come so old and wants to make nails. What is her ? & < br />& Amp; MDASH; & AMP; BDQUO; Maybe he has a date ? or pension celebrates, haha! & Amp; Rdquo; < br /> & amp. & AMP; BDQUO; some & oacute; re really should know when to stop pretending to be young. ” < p > I blinked. I didn't look at them. But everything in me squeezed like a trap. Suddenly I felt out of place. Uninvited. Foreign.

< p > I began to wonder: did I dress badly ? or m & oacute; j the coat is too old ? or my wrinkles are too striking ?

< p > The beautician invited me to the chair. My hands were trembling so much that I almost dropped my purse. She asked if everything is all right.

< p > I smiled artificially.

< p > — & yes, only & hellip; You know, I don't think I have a mood today. < p > I left. I didn't look back. But inside & Hellip; I was broken.

< p > not because someone laughed at me. But because a woman can do something so cruel — just because it is older.

< P > They forgot that they would be at my age someday. They forgot that the beauty salon is not only come to the nails — But after a little dignity. I was not & oacute; I was there.

< p > but the next day I bought a new varnish. And in the evening, with a glass of tea, I painted my nails myself.

< p > because I didn't do it for them. I did it for myself.

< p > and although my heart was still hurt, I knew one thing:

< p > My value does not depend on what m & oacute; have young voices behind my back.

< p > she depends on whether I can still look in the mirror and say:

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; You are important. You're beautiful. You are yourself. & Amp;

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116