Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I remember quite clearly the day I lost my vanity.  It was perhaps a year or so ago.  We were out to eat, and at the end of the meal I excused myself to use the restroom.  Upon returning to the table, I had a fleeting thought about the condition of my lipstick.  And then it hit me:  I'd just been face to face with a giant mirror, and I hadn't even taken a peek at my reflection.  Not even a glance to check my lipstick or adjust my hair while washing my hands, my face a mere twelve inches away from the glass.

How often does that happen?

I am no Narcissus, gazing forever at my own reflection, but I have logged countless hours makeuping, grooming, picking, plucking,washing, and viewing this face.  I used to worry about this face, disliking my nose and always trying to cover up that pesky skin.  And the hair.  Oh, the hair.  Give me one teenage girl that hasn't thrown a brush across the room in utter frustration.

And then, last year at the restaurant I didn't even give this face a second thought.  I don't know what else I was busy doing or thinking, but it wasn't about this face.  Not any more. 

Don't get me wrong, I still make up and wash and comb and groom and fight wrinkles.  I'm a big believer in putting my best face forward, but I like this new season of life where I fix it and forget it.  This season of life where other things are more important than the physical me.

And I wonder how I got here.  Is it the children that have given me a new perspective?  Having children has certainly forced a little more selfishness out of me, that's for sure, but they've also taught me how much richer my life can be when living for something beyond myself.  My children are ever present, either physically or mentally.  They have usurped all the empty, nonsensical space in my life, and some of the already filled space as well, to be honest.  It is exhausting sometimes, but there is something freeing in it, too.  As much as I may give up of myself in this mothering gig, I've also given up some pretty petty concerns.  I see life beyond myself.  That's a gift.

Perhaps, too, it is my age.  After 40 years, I've made peace with this face and the rest of me as well.  Maybe there is something to this aging thing.  Maybe it just takes this long to settle into one's skin.

But whatever it is, that night, at the restaurant? I smiled.  Because I know one thing for sure, and that is that this face--this body--is not the essence of me.  It is simply the shell I walk around in.  The real me is much bigger and deeper than I can comprehend and vanity has no place in it.  In fact, the temptation to judge ourselves based on our outward appearance robs us.  It keeps us from knowing who we really are, for we are so much more than we see.

My relationship with the mirror is a funny balance as are so many things in life.  Sometimes I celebrate the looking--in the acceptance of this face and this body; in the desire to care for it rather than the wish to change it; in feeling gratitude for it rather than pining for something very different.  In that way I celebrate the looking.  And I think that is possible because of the not looking, and so I celebrate that, too.

I don't, actually, think it is possible for vanity, or ego, or pride, or selfishness to fall away in one night.  I think it is a process that has been a long time at work, and I'm sure I'm not done yet.  But I got a glimpse of how far I have come in not glimpsing myself at all.