Vanity

It's been five days since I came into contact with a full-length mirror. I would like to say that this just occurred to me, but it didn't. I'm vain.

In my apartment in Portland, a mirror the size of a large child meets me at every turn. Not that I live in a funhouse; I only have one mirror. But my apartment is a studio and the mirror faces out toward my so-called living area, so every time I get up from the couch and walk to my desk, or walk from my desk to my bed, or from my bed to the fridge (my kitchen is technically in my bedroom), I look in the mirror. I always look in the mirror. I look in the mirror tilted above the produce at the supermarket; I look in the mirror behind the bartender's head while I'm ordering my drink; I look in the rearview mirror when I'm sitting in the back seat of a car and leaning over to talk to someone in the front. 

What's ridiculous about this besides the obvious (again, that whole narcissism thing, basic chick insecurity nonsense, being a victim of habit) is that I'm going nowhere or that I've gone nowhere since the last time I checked myself out. I won't somehow look slimmer in my jeans since breakfast and wacky eyebrow hairs haven't manifested between my second and third cup of coffee. 

But here in Vermont, I only look in the 1o-by-10-inch mirror behind my closet door to put on my makeup in the morning and to double check it before dinner, and this is because of this one simple reason: That shiny piece of glass is not constantly in front of my face. Suddenly, magically, here, I don't need to see if my ensemble looks well-put together or if I look "hippy" (as in "of hips," not as in "of Eugene"; let's hope that's never an issue) because guess what? I've worn this ensemble about four dozen times before (can you say, v-neck, green cardigan, black jeans?) and I've had breeding hips since I hit puberty. Nothing has changed. It's pointless. And I've always known it's pointless but I'm forced to make a new habit, and not to sound all Oprah-esque or self-help enlightened, but it's freeing. Yes, I said freeing. It's the most accurate feeling I can think of. Plus, there's always my reflection in glass doorways if I really get desperate. 

iPhone reflection: the epitome of ridiculousness.