About a decade ago, on the eve of my 20th birthday, I was paralysed with an impending sense of existential doom. With my teenage years now behind me I believed that my youth (and therefore my life) was essentially over. A truly asinine thought to look back on as I approach another milestone birthday – 30.As it turns out, I wasn’t suddenly transformed into a haggard crone as soon as the clock hit midnight like some kind of grotesque Cinderella; I was still a fresh-faced baby turning into an ever-so-slightly older baby who had no idea on how to operate in the world – who among us does at that age?But this type of gerascophobia at such a young age was not a fear unique to me. It’s practically hardwired into the internal systems of everyone, especially young women, across the globe. There are highly lucrative industries dedicated to making women hate themselves simply for no longer being 21. Plastic surgery and the advent of AI perfectionism have only exacerbated this self-loathing into something more palpable – and sinister.I’m only in my 20s, but I’ve been inundated with anti-ageing sentiment on social media since my early teens. After all, it’s a space that is proliferated with influencers and celebrities pushing facelifts and FaceTune on to their susceptible young audiences. Thus the fear of actually looking your age has been struck into the hearts of Zoomers everywhere.