Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

I like to think of myself as one who is comfortable in her skin.  For the most part, I like myself and those things for which I stand. 

Although I still have a LOT of growing to do, I feel that, as I age, I'm liking myself more than I did when I was younger; and to me this is a success.

But for the love of Pete, I have a mirror issue.

First of all, I do not have a full length mirror in my house.  (much to Taylor's dismay!)  It's not intentional, honest.  We have a small house and there really isn't space for a big mirror.  Every inch of wall space is covered with something.  So, for the past years, I have no idea what I look like from the waist down, unless I see it in a photo (gasp!) or a mirrored glass building.

I don't know what these mirrors and photos do to twist my looks around so much.  When I dress, apply my makeup and do my hair, I'm usually pleased with the outcome.  Well, pleased might not be the right word, but I certainly would never leave the house looking like I do in many of these photos.  Something happens between the time I primp and when I walk out the house. 

Hair Goblins grab ahold of my hair and make it either flat or super high.  The Grease Monster rides all over my skin and turns it shiny.  Some type of gremlin goes inside my stomach, rear and thighs and blows them up three times their size.  And a wacky joker gets in my eyeballs and makes me do stupid things with my eyes.

And that's what you, the world, gets to see when photos of me are posted on this blog. 

In my mind, I look young, hip and fresh.  I'm not approaching fifty, I'm riding high in my twenties; or at least hiding it well.  If I poke out my chin(s) enough, you don't notice there are more than one there. 

The mirror says otherwise.  Today, I'm having a Fat Bastard day.