I have a hate-hate relationship with mirrors.
First of all, I can never be sure that I can trust a mirror. After all, the world is full of unreliable ones, mirrors that make you look shorter or thinner or tanner than you actually are. Sometimes I think I look good in a mirror, but then someone else’s face comes into view and I see that their nose looks ridiculously crooked, and I think, great, that must be how crooked my nose looks in real life. But of course, I can never really know, so I’m left uncertain of the tier of unattractiveness I’m currently occupying.
Second of all, mirrors seem to do a really great job of overemphasizing the most unsatisfactory aspects of my appearance. If I have even the slightest zit on my face, all of a sudden I look like I’ve come down with a ghastly bout of hives. If I’m having a weird hair day, I immediately look like I’ve just been electrocuted. Anything and everything I could possibly be self-conscious about is exaggerated tenfold when I look into a mirror.
The only mirror in my apartment, besides the one in my roommate’s bedroom, is in the bathroom, and let me tell you, the lighting in there is seriously terrible. With the overhead light on, it’s still too dark to be able to really see yourself correctly. But if you turn the mirror light on, every flaw you’ve ever tried to hide is exposed in a harsh, unforgiving solar burst. Bags under your eyes. That weirdly shaped mole on the side of your face. The upper lip hair you apparently failed to bleach away. Oh, yeah. That’s the kind of thing that really makes you feel like you’re ready to conquer the day.
Honestly, sometimes I’d just rather not look. There are mornings when I get up, run a comb through my hair, put on an outfit I’m pretty sure matches, and walk out the door without so much as a glance in the mirror. I know I’m going to find something unacceptable about my appearance, but I don’t have the energy to fix it, so why bother?
Today was one of those mornings. I used the mirror for about 3.5 seconds while I put my contacts in, but other than that, I just wasn’t interested in knowing how I looked. I did everything else I had to do – went to class, turned in my quiz, ate my lunch, went to work – but I had no concept of what I looked like while doing it. I could have had a cowlick or a giant forehead pimple, for all I knew. And with my luck, I probably did.
The thing is, what I see in the mirror doesn’t actually have anything to do with the success of my day. Today, when I could very well have been walking around with some unbearably tragic blemish, I still had a super helpful math class and managed to write a post for the first time in two weeks. And even more importantly, knowing I had a gargantuan zit on my chin wouldn’t have made it go away. I am what I am, and apart from basic hygiene (with which I would argue I am quite skilled), there’s nothing I can do to change that. Especially not while antagonizing myself in front of a mirror.
Anaïs Nin once said, “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” And maybe that’s true. It’s impossible to see myself the way I’m perceived by professors in class or neighbors on the street. Mirrors are reflections; we see ourselves in them through our own eyes. I don’t get the opportunity to see me, only to see the way light bounces my image off of a thin sheet of glass. We do not have the pleasure of observing our true selves.
We must have faith that there is beauty, even when we cannot see it.