Mirror, Mirror, October 4th

I have a friend who is obsessed with her image. Every time we pass any sort of reflective surface– a store window, shiny counter, in-store mirror, she’s grabbing a glimpse of herself and making a minor adjustment– a hair fluff, lipgloss redo, an under-eye smudge reduction. According to “S,” there is always something to be happy about, but always something to fix. When I pass a mirror or have a chance for an impromptu pic, I run for the hills, avoiding the reflection or photographic capture of the day whenever possible. If I’m out of the house, clearly I’ve already looked in the mirror at least once before exiting, and that’s quite enough for me. I don’t need a reminder of that face; I’m good. Let’s keep it moving. This friend of mine, S, is a true mix of humblebrag and resting bitch face, but I swear she has a good heart.

Don’t you wonder about people doing solo photoshoots with their camera phones in random places like the grocery store or in front of a nondescript building? Who ya sending that shot to anyway, cupcake? I am so camera shy that I’m constantly getting the bugeyes from my son to just shut up and take one pic. How do I say this gently? The camera just does not love me. And I have friends who photograph fabulously. No matter the lighting, the angle, the pose, time of day, location or company, some folks just always look smiley and happy and the best version of themselves. My son looks relaxed and terrific in every single picture that is taken of him! I look like I’m straining to grimace, my eyes are small, and I could be in serious pain. Then when I see the actual shot, I have thoughts like… do my ears really look like that? Why did nobody tell me to fix my hair? Jeez my nose is wide. And then I’m down the rabbit hole of self-loathing. No thanks to the reflection, mmmkay?

And speaking of the mirror mirror on the wall, you’ll remember that the looker asks, “Who’s the fairest of them all?” I’ve always interpreted fairest to mean loveliest, most beautiful, or best, and obviously not a literal interpretation of the one having the palest skin. My Dad strongly believes that “He who dies with the best tan wins,” which is completely counter to being fair. (In all “fairness,” he saw that on a t-shirt a hundred years ago.) So I guess I’m calling my Father out on being a competitive tanner. But let’s address the situation: he lives in Florida and is retired! He belongs to a beach club AND has a pool at his condo complex. Others (me) work full-time indoors, have no access to outdoor water (unless you count the disgusting Hudson River and be serious, I don’t), and I live in NYC, not exactly a sunbathers paradise October through March, and certainly no day in July is tolerable without water to cool off. So I’m at a serious disadvantage if I were entering this silent competition, which of course I’m not. So Dad, congrats– you win!

Whether you’re pale, tan, fair or the most beautiful in the land, I hope that regardless of how many times a day you admire your reflection, you like what you see in the mirror… and if not call S. She can help with a little gloss for your pout or spritz for your do! But more importantly, you should like WHO you see staring back at you.