I am a mirror, and I am here to tell you that I don’t matter.
I’m the mirror who’s seen you as a baby, gurgling at your own reflection. I’m the mirror who’s seen you take your first steps, holding my surface for support. I’ve seen you brush your very first teeth and dress up for your first day of school.
I’ve seen you grow up, grow insecure, and nervously brush back your stubborn hair. I’ve seen you put on makeup for your graduation, and I’ve seen you get ready for your first job. I’ve watched you on your wedding day- a nervous bride, with a dozen aunts hovering around you, dressing you up in red silks and gold.
I’ve seen your grandparents, parents, children, grandchildren- and all of their moments that mattered.
But I’m sick of it.
Remember that cousin of yours you found, hanging from her room’s ceiling fan? I watched her sob at her reflection an hour before.
I’ve seen your mother smile in a hundred different ways, just to see which one looked the best. Suddenly, being happy didn’t matter to her anymore, looking good did.
I’ve seen you put on layers upon layers of makeup, trying to hide all your laugh-wrinkles so your boss would think well of you on your first day.
I’ve seen your little daughter spend hours in front of me, tying up her soft, short hair- then frowning and letting it loose- again, and again, and again. Your daughter was trying to ‘be like Mummy’.
Is looking ‘beautiful’ so important that you waste your time and your little joys for it? Is a perfectly thin nose, big eyes, fair skin and a perfectly slender body worth the sacrifice of your happiness?
I don’t think so.