She didn't find a glossy, airbrushed figure. Instead, as the "patching" of the old varnish came away, she revealed a woman of eighty years in her most honest form. The brushstrokes showed the delicate, paper-thin texture of shoulders that had carried children through wars. There were silvered "stretch marks" that looked like lightning bolts across a summer sky, and the soft, gravity-defying folds of a body that had simply refused to quit.