“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?” Don’t ask. Especially when you’re looking into a lighted magnified mirror. As a matter of fact, don’t do that either. I beg you. JUST DON’T DO IT.
I asked my mother for a magnified makeup mirror for my birthday. She did ask, “Are you sure you want that?” She knew. I didn’t listen. I should have. I’ll never be the same again.
The problem was the lighting in my bathroom wasn’t good enough for me to see every little thing on my face.(Why did I think I needed to see every little thing on my face? Have I lost my mind completely? Don’t answer that.) I don’t see as well as I used to in a dimly lit environment. It’s not easy to climb up on the sink, get right against the mirror, and see the ugly little unwanted hairs hanging out on my face.
So, I thought one of those magnified mirrors surrounded by light would be great to have at my house. My mother granted my birthday wish and now I had a mirror of my own. The mirror might even help me blend my makeup better. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Do you know what I saw? Something right out of Stephen King novel, that’s what. I saw lines deep and endless mapping a path along my face and long, uncontrollable hairs reaching out their tentacles to grab me and drag me to the other side of that mirror where the evil stepmother lives. I saw every pore, red spot, and broken blood vessel laying claim to my skin. I jumped back, heart hammering in my chest. When I glanced in the regular mirror, the monster had disappeared, drawn back to its place of hiding just waiting for me to peer into the darkness of its depth.
There I was, staring into the regular mirror, for the time being. The me I recognized, but I knew I had to glance back into the swollen world inside that lighted mirror. I had to rescue my appearance from those hairy tentacles and uneven landscape. I couldn’t let my skin be at the mercy of those monsters. I had to be brave. I looked again.
This time I was prepared. Tweezers securely held between my fingers. Makeup blending brush at the ready. I held my breath and attacked. Searching for things that did not belong, yanking and removing. I focused only on the task at hand and didn’t dare search out anything else until I was done. Allowing my eyes to wander in a magnified mirror only made me nauseous. It’s too much like spinning in the tea cups.
I brushed, covered and applied. The heat from the light brought beads of sweat to my lip making my work slip and slide around my face. Entrenched so deep in facial warfare I was uncertain of when it would end. Had I missed anything? Who would notice? And had they noticed before but were too polite to point out the hairs of my chinny, chin, chin?
Scarred and battered, I was done. The fight was over. The makeup on. It was time to pull out of the magical makeup mirror, bright with light, and glance back into the poorly lit bathroom mirror.
“Not so bad,” I said, but I was blinded by light and exhausted from battle. What did I know? I knew only that horrible mirror would be shoved deeply inside the cabinet and only looked into when the choices were few or before an important event.