Objects In Mirror Are As Old As They Appear.
Affixed to my windshield like a reflective sneer, the thin rectangular mirror has become my nemesis. Perhaps it is a required safety device, but I think it is an asshole. I could be feeling like a million bucks before I step into my SUV, skittering off to run one of my many exhilarating mom errands and then WHAMMO- I catch a glimpse and I’m instantly decrepit and insecure. It’s a similar process each time; I buckle my seatbelt while contemplating the logistics of the daily journey; dry cleaner, Target, then groceries? Or dry cleaner last so the clothes don’t get all messed up while I drive around? And shoot, I need to get a birthday gift and my gas tank is empty. And I have to buy posterboard for my son’spresentation. Re-ordering the list in my head, I come to the realization, once again, that I will not be enriching my mind with a good book today- there just isn’t enough time before school pick-up.
Since I still have the werewithal to fully turn my body while reversing, I do so with confidence. I lived in Florida so I’ve seen elderly drivers (a.k.a. “Q-Tips”) throw it in reverse and nail stationary objects due to physical limitations. I know what’s coming. The full body turn will be fully milked during my pre-Q-tip years, especially because flying down the narrow driveway is so much easier. Sometimes I forget about the placement of the mirrored safety piece, turn around too quickly and face it head on. Reflected in my line of vision are so many flaws: wiry strands of gray sprouting from dark roots like dilapidated trees in a poorly highlighted forest of blond hair, the number eleven deeply engrained in my globella and the thinning, pink skin under my eyes resembling that of a newborn lizard. And the wrinkles! Oh so many wrinkles! Suddenly the errands I was content with running have become dreadful stops of torture. I’m hideous.
Moments like these end up costing a lot of money. Appointments are made at the hair salon and dermatologist, followed by a comfort beverage and cookie from a coffee shop. I need new make-up, stat. And then of course there will be add-ons at Target because “I deserve it.” Decade number 5 has been my favorite decade yet. Much of the freedom I had during the pre-kid era is making a comeback and I feel great physically albeit peeing my pants when I sneeze. But knowing what lies ahead in the upcoming decades makes me question…Will I ever accept all the ongoing physical changes or will I fight like mad and pull a Priscilla Presley? Will I be as happy as those ladies in the osteoporosis commercials? Will I ever proudly steer a motorized cart throughout the grocery store?
Until that day of reckoning, I vow to be strong, be confident and use my back-up camera while reversing.
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