“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the thinnest girl of all?”
The day I lost my skinny mirror, my life shattered.
Ok, maybe that’s a tad exaggerated, but STILL!
Once, my mirror reflected my lumps and bumps as straight lines and smooth surfaces. I loved this mirror almost as much as I loved my shaper pantyhose. During certain ghastly times when I was feeling bloated, I’d run upstairs and sneak a glance. Even my fat outfits would look slim-lined in this mirror.
My family knew this was mommy’s mirror, a treasure to be guarded. If ever there were a fire, someone else had better grab the scrapbooks, because one of my arms would carry a child and the other, my mirror.
Each day I would leave the house full of confidence and with an air of pride. I was looking good, and I knew it. My beloved mirror would never lie.
Until one day I offered to redesign my church’s boring nursery. The toddler’s were screaming, because of the lack of color, texture, and toys. With help from a friend, I hung orange and white checkered curtains, plastered bright and vibrant bugs all over the walls, decorated with puppets, and hung a mirror horizontally at a two year-old’s eye level.
Since I knew hanging anything with glass is tricky business, I recruited my husband to help. His experience is vast, including chandeliers, outdoor lights, and my skinny mirror. I never once considered that he could shatter the look of my hips with one swing of the hammer, but the unfortunate happened – the frame broke. My husband looked to me and said, “Do you have another mirror?”
My head spun through the options…I could run to Wal-Mart, but I’m out of time and money…I could call everyone I know within a two-mile radius and see if they have a mirror…
“How about the mirror that is hanging in our bedroom? We could trade it for this broken one.” My husband suggested, interrupting my thoughts.
I gasped. My heart skipped a beat and my hand came automatically to my mouth.
“Not my skinny mirror.” I pleaded.
After my husband made me feel the guilt of breaking ten children’s hearts, I sacrificed my mirror on the altar of poopy diapers. I am convinced not one of those two-year old’s appreciates seeing his thin face as much as I did seeing my thin hips.
I lost my skinny mirror and that is why I am on a diet.
That is why I am hungry.
That is why I am cranky.
If you liked this post, please share it by using the buttons below. Thank you!