In whose image?

I watched a movie last night wherein the main character ages and at the end of her life is unbelievable ugly. Then I wondered about the phrase 'made in the image of God'. Why, as we age, do we become so ugly? I look at my own hands wrinkle up and know God's hands do not have wrinkles. So does God's divine image shine through me sufficiently for others to see? No mirror captures that.