Mirror, mirror, off the wall
“You’ve got food on your face,” he said, prompting the offender to seek out a mirror. I find this ironic since Dan deliberately leaves vittles on his face just to bug me.
We sit opposite each other at the kitchen booth, and often I notice ketchup taking up residence in his mustache or the corner of his mouth. So I point to the spot to alert him, but instead of wiping it off, he just smiles and nods.
At least I warned him. Some folks go around all day with traces of their last meal—or meals— showing. A quick check in a looking glass would solve this problem, but they seem to forget that option.
At the opposite end of the spectrum are those who make a living out of it. I used to know this gal who seemed downright addicted to mirrors. She rarely passed one without stopping to admire herself.
She even primped in store windows. The gal and her reflection made such a great pair, I felt like the odd man out.
She would have loved the fitness center I belonged to that featured wall-to-wall mirrors. From a practical standpoint, their purpose was to verify proper technique with the equipment. But both genders did plenty of gazing even after their workout ended.
Writing this article prompted me to tally the mirrors in my house. Turns out we own six, unless you count the microwave that reminds me to sit up straight while eating.
Four are full-length, but I prefer my bedroom mirror because it makes me look thinner than the rest. It used to, anyway. Lately, it’s become a bit, er, distorted.
So I find myself avoiding fullbody images. As someone on the far side of middle age, I’ve begun to shun the head and shoulders variety, too.
This, unlike a guy I know who said, “I like to flex in mirrors or anywhere I can see myself. Girls think I’m conceited, but I’m just proud of my body.”
His looking glass should read, “Objects in mirror are vainer than they appear.”
Then again, he probably doesn’t go around with food on his face.