I've reached the age where I'm scared of hotel mirrors.
I'm nervous when I see myself out of context.
Hotel mirrors give me new perspectives and that's no longer what I'm looking for; I want to see the version of myself that I know.
Lit from the side and seen from two angles simultaneously, I can no longer tell myself that a man half my age would find me attractive.
If I could just see myself straight-on with my carefully rehearsed and prepared spontaneous smile, seen in good lighting, it does seem at least possible. Not that it matters--of course not.
But seeing without familiar filters, without charmingly comfortable self-deceptive coziness of one's own self-reflective surfaces--well, all pretense simply falls away.
Home is not only where the heart is-- it's also where the good mirrors are.
The trouble is, all this knowledge gets eclipsed by the image in the mirror, the image that doesn't give me back what I hope to see.
I can eat light, or worse, eat "lite," wear good clothes and buy reasonable, non-clown cosmetics, and I can take care of myself.
But gradually, my longing to improve my looks via The Body Shop is being replaced by a longing to improve my looks via Photoshop. It's far easier and so much less messy, after all.