The Looking Glass

 Ten years have passed since I started this blog and as I've written many times here, I never thought it would last very long. Setting goals with respect to it, keeping it eclectic in content with no theme made it more interesting for me (and easier) to continue. However, the biggest encouragement through it all has been the readers. Thank you to those who continue checking in, reading, and having interest in what I write and have to say. That's the greatest motivation of all. 

Regarding 'The Looking Glass'...there's a cartoon that depicts how differently men and women perceive their reflections when looking into a mirror. While it's a generalization and in no way accurately depicts everyone, it is somewhat spot-on.  A woman looking into a mirror focuses on the flaws she sees in herself; the flaws become so emphasized that the image staring back is a negative, ugly caricature.  A man, on the other hand, will gaze at himself, seeing a caricature of Adonis-like perfection. Again, just a generalization, but it does explain how too many women have a negative body image complex, and we unfairly compare ourselves to what we aren't and never will be. 

As women age, the issue stays with us but the comparison shifts to the younger version...what we looked like in our twenties and thirties. We weren't content with our appearances then, yet it's what we long to have on the older model. Rather than being content and happy with what we are, there's comparison that's never achievable.  I know I'll never look like the beautiful Christie Brinkley, but that's okay because I never did in the first place.  However, I should be okay with how I've aged, but that "never quite good enough" is on repeat in my head. We're too tough on ourselves, ladies. 

The selfies I share in this blog are an example: I took them looking into a mirror in front of my Christmas tree. While I think they're better than normal of myself, the lighting is actually terrible. The lights on my tree are not yellow, they're white/clear. Go figure. 

Finally, sharing 'The Looking Glass' below, with more emphasis on memories. So many thanks, yet again, for those who have inspired me the last ten years. The plan is to keep it going, and I hope you continue to read it. Much love and appreciation. 

The Looking Glass

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

 

She was just a girl.  One that stared back at her sixty-year-old image reflected in the looking glass; gone were the age spots and wrinkles, replaced with the wide smile, strong jaw and smooth skin of her early twenties.  She wore the pink Chuck Taylor high-tops she loved, and carried a novel, sketch pad, and camera in her arms. Staples of her life. Was she listening to Train in Vain by The Clash, or Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun? Had she been to class or was she going to class? The image turned her back, glancing over her shoulder at the future, then dissolved.

She was just a girl.

An even younger version appeared, gazing into the glass with wonder and curiosity about life; the future stared back, remembering.  She was awkward and skinny, self-conscious about both; she wrote poems about it and daydreamed.  Head in the clouds, always in the clouds.

  She was just a girl.

Then a jumble of images…Barbie dolls and Dancerina, Tippee Toes and The Muppets, Etch-A-Sketch and Easy Bake Oven, Mood Rings and Class Rings, Tip-It and Operation, Berets and Mortarboards, Close ‘N Play and Transistor Radios, Chrissy and Velvet, Pet Rocks and Toss Across, Baby Beans and Baby Alive, Thumbelina and Baby Tenderlove.

Mousetrap and Viewmaster, Spirograph and Lite-Brite, Barrel of Monkeys and Paper Dolls, Duncan Yo-Yos and Clackers, Peace Signs and Nike Classic Cortez, Love Beads and Puka Shells, Chokers and Neck Scarves, Earth Shoes and Bell Bottoms, Crochet and Macramé, The Hustle and Tetherball, Noxzema and Oil of Olay, Love’s Baby Soft and Avon’s Sweet Honesty, Scrunchies and Fingerless Gloves, Wayfarers and Shoulder Pads.

The looking glass cleared, along with the memories. Six decades stared at her, the mirror no longer reflecting the past.  She was just a girl, but a modified version of her younger self. That girl of ten, and 16, 21 and 30…the same girl at 40, 50 and even 60.  Experienced, but still a little naïve, skeptical and yet hopeful, still full of questions but possessing more answers to life. Always thinking and wondering. Creating.

She was still just a girl.