Thursday, January 27, 2011

Do you see what I see?

I received a cartoon email. A gray-haired, softly-rounded couple are sitting on stools at the ice cream parlor. He nudges her and says, "Honey, see that couple sitting down there on the end? That's how I imagine we'll look in a few years when we're that old."

She looks at him in disbelief and says, "You do know that is a mirrored wall, don't you?"

I can't tell you how many times I have caught that old gal in the mirror. She mocks me. I'm wise to her though, and I avoid those mirrored walls when I enter any establishment. If I open a dressing room and see a three way mirror, I slam that door and run in the other direction. The last thing I need is three images of my hind end or a microscopic image of my crinkle face. In fact, I take my glasses off before I ever enter a dressing room and only put them on when I need to see the different size tags on the three identical garments.

My daughter was at the mall getting a manicure. The Asian employees were speaking their language and laughing. My daughter said she felt self-concious, as though they were talking about her. Business was slow. She looked around and convinced herself that they were discussing "this gal at the other end of the shop with a big fat double chin who kept imitating me."

Regardless of the language spoken, she now holds her head high and keeps her neck taut when she goes for a manicure.

When the children were very young, my ex husband took us to a restaurant. He asked me to shift my position several times, but he grew more irritated with each of my moves. "Lean to your left. That's better." Then I'd see him frown again. I thought that the sun was in his eyes and asked if he wanted to switch seats. He said, "No, there's a nut outside the window who keeps staring at me and making faces." I asked how he knew the guy was a nut. He replied, "He has crazy eyes."
I turned to catch a glimpse of this wild-eyed man. When I realized he was sitting across from me, I laughed uncontrollably and couldn't even order my meal.

Watch out, your refelction is out to get you.

10 comments:

Julia Gordon-Bramer said...

Ha ha! Yeah, those three-way mirrors are a horrid thing.

I would venture a step further and say that photographs are out to get me too. I keep seeing photos of myself and gasping. I am not that fat! My face does not hang like that! I swear it!

And yet, there it is... I like your choice not to look. If we still feel 27, let's stay there.

Chatty Crone said...

Good one. lol sandie

Susan J. Reinhardt said...

Oh, oh! I loved this post. I needed a chuckle. We all feel young on the inside, but our bodies don't agree.

Susan said...

ha ha ha ha ha That was funny, Linda. Ohhhhh, I HATE three ways. I find every flaw that ever surfaced on my body and hair. Yuk yuk yuk After reading 8 million self-help books, can I never find the GOOD things? Nay, no, not, never. Oh well. In restaurants, sitting near a mirrored wall is the best diet trick yet to keep the food choices in check and not reach for seconds. ha ha ha Have a great day. Susan

Kathleen said...

I'm glad it's not just me then that has a problem with mirrors!

Lynn said...

Hilarious!

Tammy said...

Linda, that is so funny! I can't figure out why I look pretty normal in my mirror at home, yet a strange, older fat woman follows me around and shows up in store mirrors and window reflections. And one time she showed up next to me in a vacation photo with her arm around me. I didn't remember her at all until I realized the person I thought was me was MY DAUGHTER. And the strange woman was...you guessed it. Sigh.

Lisa Ricard Claro said...

Oh, Linda! I'm still laughing! That is just too funny. Now I have to get my hubby to read it, because he heard me cackling and thinks I've lost my mind. LOL

Sioux Roslawski said...

Linda---I too look at the mirror (when I cannot avoid it or when it sneaks up on me) and cannot understand why I look so old but feel young (on the inside).

Pat Wahler said...

I often tell myself that the mirror is nothing more than a big fat liar.

Pat
www.critteralley.blogspot.com