I fell in love last week. I had occasion to share a motel room in Carson City, Nevada with my mother and sister and shortly after checking in, I wandered into the bathroom to straighten myself up.
There it was – a six-foot wide, sink to ceiling, mirror. I spied the woman staring into it and nearly didn’t recognize myself. I was gorgeous. If it was possible I would have dated myself.
Seriously, I looked a good 15 years younger, all pink and glowing. I spent that night and the next morning taking several unnecessary trips to the mirror, staring at my long-lost self. If only I could have taken the glorious reflection with me!
This has happened to me a few times, and I know most women will have experienced this – a reflection that is almost surreal. I don’t know if it’s lighting or mirror quality or both, but it’s a wonder. The last time I fell in love with a mirror I was working in a grungy little newspaper office and the shared ladies room was located in the motorcycle shop next door.
I made an inordinate number of trips through this establishment to visit my reflected self. I’m sure it was noticed by the other employees and the shop’s owner, who looked good enough in his tight jeans to warrant an additional round of trips to the “other side.” Yes, I did meet all my deadlines, but not with any help from the mirror or Mr. Blue Jeans.
I returned from my trip on Friday and the image that greeted me in my little makeup mirror was a stranger to me. I’m not sure who that woman is in the little round thingie. Surely not me!
I’m craving a return to my mirror. Yes, it is mine. We have a special relationship now. What’s that you say? It’s currently fulfilling the needs of some other woman?!
No, no, say it isn’t so!