If my mirror could talk . . .
Here she is again.
Maybe -- just maybe -- she's gonna clean us today . . .
please-oh-please-oh-please . . .
Aaaaand. . . . Nope.
She's just gonna put that gel in her hair again.
And you know what'll come next . . . of course.
Yeah. The face cream. And then the mascara.
She is NEVER satisfied.
Always floofing with the hair here.
Changing her earrings there.
Questioning the lighting.
Worrying about the eye bags.
Or. . . here's my personal favorite:
Does this make me look fat???????
Are you sure???????
What about from the side???????
Does it match???????
(Right. There you go. Ask the color blind guy.)
And that cursing!
About . . . what?
Wishing she'd started moisturizing her neck several decades ago?
Really. That needs to stop.
Water under the bridge, I say.
Too late now, I say.
Do what you can, but chill, I say.
Argh!!! Here she is again.
Checking for enlarged pores.
Oh make it STOP!
For crying out loud, lady.
You're nearly 58!!!!
Let. It. GO!!!!!
You look fine.
And try to remember that the most important stuff of you . . . is not reflected in me, your mirror. It's reflected in your actions, your words, your thoughts.
And, next time. . . bring the Windex, would'ja?