You’ll get compliments that sting a little. “Wow, you lost your baby face!” they say. Great, so I used to look like a giant infant? Thanks. Or, “You look so much older now” (because of the sharper features). Older? Bruh, I’m just trying to fit into my jeans.
Then there’s the weird guilt. You look in the mirror and think, “I loved my old face too. It was mine.” It’s like saying goodbye to a favorite old couch. It was lumpy, sure, but it held all your best naps.
You start to miss your chubby cheeks. Not in a “I want them back” way, but in a nostalgic, “remember when I could store a sandwich in there?” way. Your face was a cozy house. Now it’s a sleek, modern apartment with hard floors. Both are nice. Just different.
