By Tobi Ash, Writing Class Radio student
For my 45th birthday, my husband gave me a 15X magnifying LED light-up mirror. The mirror came with a deluxe set of tweezers with surgical and slant tips in a fancy leather carrying case.
The mirror doesn’t lie. It’s glass with a silver backing and NO silver lining. It shows the wrinkles, sun damage, broken capillaries, errant and stubborn hairs, asymmetry, and enlarged pores. One eyebrow is higher than the other. One eye is noticeably bigger. Even one nostril looks bigger than the other.
The mirror in the car is also deliberately cruel. When I casually flip it open, I see a long black hair sprouting from my chin. How on earth did I leave my house like this and NO ONE told me? I look like Drisella, the uglier of Cinderella’s stepsisters. My teeth look yellow despite repeated applications of Crest Whitestrips.
I would like mirrors to show the souls of people instead of the decaying outsides. The insides, hopefully grow more beautiful and radiant as one ages because of the soul’s journey. But we only get a few good years of unblemished, firm youth and decade upon decade of decrepitude.
These days, I avoid actual mirrors as much as possible, hoping to see myself reflected in the "true" mirror: my husband's eyes. There, I am always beautiful.