The Mirror Has Two Faces

There comes a time in every short Jewish gal's life when she looks in the mirror, screams briefly, and sees someone different. Her face looks weary. Her eyes look tired. Her hair looks choppy and questionable. When a gal, a short Jewish gal, let's call her the SJG, looks in the mirror and sees her current punim reflected back, as opposed to her much younger punim, that short gal starts to wonder if, despite the punishing aging process, she can still be the same short gal she's always been:

Kvetchy? Impatient? All-knowing?

Can she look in that mirror and admit that at some point, she must let go of the changing table she used to diaper her sons on?  Can she accept that the changing table isn't going to change anything or anyone anymore, plus, it doesn't really fit with the Tuscan-style decor?

Can she continue to be the same gal she was before the summons for jury duty arrived yesterday like a sharp smack upside the head? At what point can she convince the court that her lifelong philosophy is the only one that matters:

"Your honor, I've decided I shouldn't mix in."