Upon the turning of 45, when one looks into the mirror to find that one blemish that wasn't there before.  Your hips ache just from the simple task of walking and your hair is so thin that it's useless.  It is hard to run from the mirror to the window to see elements of what you used to be.  They are firm, full headed and free.  They have not a care that one day that will all change.  The day will come when beauty will come at a cost and your head must be held high anyway.  That is the way of the White Gardenia.  She must bloom.................where she is planted.