Mirrors

Did I ever tell you, I hate mirrors? Probably not, because I never really thought about it before. However, I have the day off, my lawn mowing plans have gone out the window, because, once again, it is pissing down rain, and I have this extra time on my hands, so my brain just starts spitting out random stuff. I was simply sitting down to read a friend's blog, and suddenly up pops the mirror issue.
  When I was young, I just didn't care what my hair looked like, if I had zits, well, the pain and itch confirmed there was a huge volcano on my face, so what was the sense in looking at myself, and viewing it? No sense at all, it was there! I was going to have to live with it, so, looking at it, was redundant. Plus, I hated zits, and why would I want to see what everyone else would have to stare at? I was not allowed out the door with makeup, so never got into the habit of staring at myself, while beautifying. I didn't need a mirror to put my hair into a ponytail, so, a mirror just was not something I was ever comfortable with.
  I got to the point where I was like those secret pygmy folks, living off in the jungle. I really had no idea what I looked like. I would see a picture of myself, and go into shock, who the F*ck was that pimple faced, freckled, chubbet? I preferred not to view myself, didn't like the way I looked, knew there was no way to change things, so I have lived most of my years, without the company of my relection.
  I suppose some head doctor would have a blast with this. Perhaps it is my inner self that I refuse to accept, and therefore mirrors are taboo? Nope, quite fine with the inner me. I am totally aware of who I am. In my mind, I am a straight shooter. I speak my mind (well ,as often as I can). I have no fear of getting caught in a lie, because...I have no need to lie. Oh, maybe in the past, I might have told a few bill collectors the check was in the mail, but, that doesn't count, does it?  I do dye my hair on occasion, and I do have to look in the mirror for that process, however, the colour is always something that is obviously not my own, so I am not even trying to pretend.
  I enjoy life without seeing myself. I realize I have aged, usually by the shock and dismay of pictures, taken by others. I absolutely hate having my picture taken!! It wasn't horrifying when I was younger, but, these days I am blown away when I get caught by some one clicking away, and then find they have posted my image on Face book for the whole world to see this wrinkled, flabby old crone, the whole world, and me!! Yuck, just sickens me to see how old I am!!
  See, when you stay away from mirrors, you go out into the world with the mindset that you are not out to impress, you are not pretending to be a covergirl, clothes do NOT make the person. When I meet someone, they don't have to try and figure out who I am, I am totally apparent. I am a 57 year old, who reached the point in life,(decades ago) that I realized I was not the most attractive female, I would/could, never be a fashion statement, and my mouth over powered any other facet of my being. I am not out to make friends, with my looks.
  Perhaps my life without mirrors has allowed me to see through others, a little easier? I expect those who read my blog often, have clued in that I was raised by a Catholic mother. She never forced her religion on us, but, we did grow up with bits and pieces, a part of our lives. Vanity was something that was frowned on. Outward appearances were not important (well except having my hair in my eyes, which was why I spent most of my teenage years with a ponytail), cleanliness WAS important. You all know I failed that rule, with my past housekeeping, but, I had the scrub brush taken to my hands more than once growing up.
  All those years of asking for things my girl friends had, and getting the answer "you are not So & So, accept who you are", soaked in. Oh, I also got the comments "If you don't like it here, go live with them". My mother used makeup, but sparingly, she also curl her hair, so when she went out, she looked "presentable", but she was a beautiful woman, and she had one up on me. When I attempted makeup, I was horrified, it just looked wrong. I had my makeup done when I got married, way back in the stone age. I spent the whole time, feeling like I had a mud pack on my face, and it was going to crack. Then we have the sensitive skin issue, can't put diddly on my face without a rash, so...I have decided what you see, is what you get. Not really a bad place to be, saves time and money.
  I am a grandmother, and I remember my grannies were old!One granny had white hair, for as long as I remembered. My other grandmother was a red-head, and she passed when I was about 14, however, since she was my Mom's mom, she was old, right? I don't have white hair, I don't knit, I am definitely not sweet (like my Scottish Granny), perhaps like my cousin Lynne commented, I lean a little more to the french side of the family? I do remember my Mom's Mom, being a tad on the blunt side, definitely not a sweet, quiet lady like Granny R. She was a looker, like my Mom, tall, buxom, and spoke her mind. I don't think she spent very much time gazing upon her reflection in the mirror, but she would have never seen a wrinkled old crone staring back at her. I am not tall or buxom. I am short, chubby, and the only place I am petite is in the  buxom area. I am, in the book of life, old.
  However, if I do not look in the mirror, I am simply as old as I feel. Somedays I am ancient, when the bones ache, and the dried up epidermis itches. However, other days, I am simply the same person who used to pull her hair into a ponytail, ensure her fingernails were scrubbed, and go off into the world, without the burden of knowing just how big that zit on my face really was. I don't know a single soul who enjoys watching their outsides age, and think, perhaps, my disdain of mirrors is a good thing, at this point in time?
  Getting old sucks the big one, and I am just not going to watch!!!