Mirror, Mirror

Our best friend and enemy will remain our dear mirror. As a teen it’s the witness to our first puberty changes, our first unwelcome zits or worse, acne. We wake up one morning and we face our first moment of truth when you look into your mirror. You pounce on these new visions invading your “once baby face” with your manicured nails/claws and viciously scratch your face until blood is oozing from them then hurry to your mom in a state of terror. Her shrieks do nothing to calm your first fit of self-hate. This massacre is followed by your onslaught on your furry eyebrows that you unplug to death because one girlfriend told you they were too thick. Then come the first make up trials, which make you look like a prostitute or a clown, you choose.

Still, it’s not all bad! A few years later, in your glorious, insecure twenties, the mirror showed you your face and body at their best. By then you had become a professional at hiding imperfections and highlighting your best features.

Not so much of a friend when you took on weight and tried to dress 2 sizes less or when you took on a few pounds when you got pregnant (we’ll get back to that) but it was still acceptable. Disaster won’t strike until your first wrinkle appears the first time you hit your thirties. A new era starts, a first step into a love/hate relationship initiates.

In a state of panic, you try to erase this line thinking it’s a dirty trace. You rub it vigorously but to no avail. It looks even deeper. You feel like you took on a bad blow in your belly. Are you growing old???? Is it happening? You’re too young! You’ve barely lived! You haven’t even started on your bucket list. Anyway it’s for old people and you have gazillions years in front of you before you reach that stage.

The first wrinkle is always the most staggering. For a while you become obsessed with your mirror. You buy a new one, almost a magnifying glass one to track the first signs of any wrinkle which dares to show. For the first time you dread looking into your mirror. Gradually the feeling will grow with you. Mirror, mirror I’m neither the most beautiful nor the youngest any more.