Thank you for your compliment and for sharing that wonderful quote. Heinlein states eloquently the idea I was hoping to grasp.

[Poem]

This isn't right.
This face looking back at me
Has too many lines
Tiny webs sprouting from corners of
Tired eyes

I pinch my cheeks
Did they always droop this way?
The skin below feels thin, dry;
Like rice paper

This face, all grey hair and spotted skin -
That isn't me
Where is the girl who dreamt
Of being an actress, a poet, a writer
Of a life singing and dancing
Of loving and being loved
Where is her long black hair and skin supple as dew?

The mirror does not show her
But I know she exists
For I feel her heart
Beating in my chest
This is why I don't trust mirrors
For mirrors always lie