When I tell people I'm 70, their reaction is almost always the same: shocked disbelief. Strangers often assume I'm in my 50s, if not younger.
And no wonder. By this stage of life, most of us expect a face full of lines, sagginess around the jaw and eyes, a dulled complexion and hair that has thinned or lost some of its vitality.
But age hasn't done that to me.
When I look in the mirror, I see skin that is still smooth and virtually line-free with a natural glow I assumed would have faded by now.
Meanwhile, my long blonde hair, which I feel no need to cut short, complements a face I'm happy to say looks fresh and youthful.
I never imagined this is what 70 would look like for me. So I'm hardly surprised when people ask the same question I've been hearing for years now: what's my secret?
Naturally, they expect me to reveal a complicated skincare routine and various cosmetic tweakments, complemented perhaps by a punishing fitness regime all designed to keep me eternally youthful.
But the truth is, I've never had Botox or any sort of cosmetic surgery. I don't even take health supplements, and have never followed a strict exercise programme.
If anything, the secret to the way I look lies in what I choose to leave out, rather than what I've added in.
I never imagined this is what 70 would look like for me, says Shirley Yanez. So I'm hardly surprised when people ask the same question I've been hearing for years now: what's my secret?
Over the past 25 years, I have stripped away the elements of my life that were draining my energy and clouding my mind. I no longer drink alcohol and I stopped eating meat and dairy many years ago.
And, perhaps more surprisingly, I haven't had a sexual relationship in more than 20 years - a choice that runs completely counter to what we're told about health and ageing.
We're led to believe that a healthy sex life is essential for wellbeing and longevity; that intimacy keeps us youthful and connected.
But that ignores how relationships often come with an undercurrent of emotional strain: the compromise, the constant consideration of someone else's needs and the effort it takes to keep things on an even keel.
It was only when I stepped away from all that I realised how much energy romantic connections had been taking from me.
Far from diminishing my life, living celibately has left me calmer, more balanced and, I believe, has played a significant role in why I now look younger at 70 than I did when I was a high-flying businesswoman in my 40s.
Just as importantly, I've also stepped back from the relentless pressure to achieve, impress and constantly push for more.
I discovered the power of this way of living only after losing almost everything I once thought mattered.
I grew up on a council estate and having undiagnosed dyslexia meant I struggled at school.
But what I lacked in conventional academic confidence, I made up for in instinct. I became highly attuned to people, noticing shifts in tone, mood and body language that others often missed.
This helped me build a career in the City of London, where I transformed myself into a successful businesswoman.
By my 30s, I'd become a self-made millionaire, moving in a world where expensive restaurants and late nights mixing in influential circles were part of my everyday life.
Yet somewhere beneath the excitement, a quiet unease began to creep in.
On the surface, it looked like the ultimate success story, and for a long time I believed I'd got what I'd always wanted.
Yet somewhere beneath the excitement, a quiet unease began to creep in. I had a nagging sense that something about the life I was living didn't truly belong to me.
The wealth, the lifestyle and the social status I'd worked so hard for began to feel like something I was wearing, rather than a way of life that genuinely reflected who I was.
Eventually, my work took me to Los Angeles, where I imagined an even more glamorous chapter was about to unfold.
Instead, everything began to unravel, and with astonishing speed. Business ventures collapsed, relationships fell apart and the financial security I'd started to take for granted disappeared almost overnight.
One moment I was living a life that looked enviable from the outside. The next I was selling my jewellery and personal possessions simply to get by.
It was a brutal lesson in how quickly success can evaporate.
But what shook me most was when my mother died while I was still in America. I was in such a precarious financial position by then that I couldn't even afford the flight home to attend her funeral.
The reality of that forced me to confront a truth I'd been avoiding for years: that the money, status and impressive surroundings I'd strived so hard for meant nothing compared with being disconnected from the people who mattered most at such a terrible time.
Then, when I eventually did return to the UK, my body delivered the most dramatic wake-up call of all. An undiagnosed fibroid weighing eight pounds triggered a catastrophic medical crisis that caused my heart to stop.
I came frighteningly close to dying - an experience that changed the way I looked at my life forever as I was forced to confront my own mortality.
During my recovery, I began to reflect deeply on the life I'd been living and the constant pressure I had placed on myself to succeed; how I'd focused my efforts on how well I impressed other people and the extent of my material accumulations.
For years, my body had been in a near-constant state of strain, rarely given the chance to properly rest and heal.
That realisation shifted something in me, and I began instinctively rebuilding my life in a different way.
I stopped drinking alcohol, something that quickly improved my sleep and left me with far more consistent energy day to day.
I moved towards a plant-based diet and eventually became fully vegan, filling my meals with vegetables, fruit and fresh foods which made me feel lighter and noticeably improved my skin.
I started drinking far more water than I ever had before; something so simple yet powerful helping to hydrate my skin from within and support overall cellular health.
Meanwhile, I began waking early and splashing my face with icy water which stimulates circulation, reduces puffiness and leaves my skin feeling firmer than any expensive anti-ageing cream I could buy.
All this became a way of life as I realised the foundations of youthful skin aren't found in jars and bottles but in how we live; what we consume; how much stress we carry.
But perhaps most significant of all was making the decision to stop pursuing romantic relationships.
For decades I had believed—like so many women do—that fulfilment would come from finding “the one.” Relationships had always been exciting & passionate but they also brought emotional demands & expectations; levels of stress it had never really occurred to me to question.
After my near-death experience, I began to see just how much of my energy had been tied up in all that. Instead of feeling supported by romantic partners, I often felt stretched; constantly balancing my own needs with someone else’s.
Choosing celibacy wasn't about rejecting men or following any religious path. It was simply the result of discovering that my life felt calmer; clearer; more balanced when I focused my energy inward rather than constantly seeking validation through relationships.
Over time, that decision created a profound sense of freedom that I had never experienced before.
None of these changes were dramatic or instant but gradual adjustments that built up over time; with them came a steady shift in how I both looked & felt.
As the stress lifted & my daily habits improved, I began to notice real changes. My complexion became clearer; my energy more consistent; and I felt truly comfortable in my own skin.
Friends began to look at me more closely and commented that I seemed fresher; more relaxed; as though I had somehow softened rather than aged.
Today, having turned 70, the biggest shock comes from strangers who can't quite believe I'm old enough to have had that milestone birthday.
What fascinates me about the way all these changes seem to have culminated is how this sense of youthfulness seems to come not only from the way I look but from how I feel.
I sleep more deeply; my mind feels clearer; and I have the energy to pursue creative projects that once would have seemed impossible.
Most rewarding has been writing books that explore how the mind works; how our thoughts shape our behaviour; and how much of what we believe about ourselves isn't actually true.
Drawing on my own experiences, I focus on helping people recognise the patterns that keep them stuck and learn how to step back from them. It's something that would have felt unimaginable to the younger version of me who struggled at school with undiagnosed dyslexia.
At 70, I feel more at ease with myself than I ever did at 40. I'm not chasing approval; comparing myself with others; or rushing through life in a state of anxiety.
Ageing, I have realised, isn't something we defeat through miracle creams or medical interventions. It's more about the choices we make every day about how we live; what we consume; and where we place our emotional energy.
For me,the most powerful transformation began whenI stopped tryingto livea lifethatlookedimpressivefromtheoutsideandstartedbuildingonethatfeltpeacefulontheinside.
And perhaps that is why, asI enter myeighthdecade,IlookandfeelmoreyouthfulandvibrantnowthanIdidwhenIwasgenuinelysomuchyounger.