We're all a little vain. Some a little more than others. We all look in the mirror, falling back in horror when we catch our reflection unprepared. Unprepared to be seen by self.
If we're honest, we have our own special way to approach our reflection, similar to the way we 'greet the camera'. Personally, I prefer the jaw-jut when greeting the mirror. My dentist would advise against this due to a clicky jaw and the possibility of it popping open and staying that way for eternity (would they get the lid shut!?!). I used to think smiling was good but with the grin comes the harrowed horrors of skin which has seen too many sunny days over too many years.
Of course, with the sagging of skin also means the inevitable moving of reading material further away from the eye. This is a plus. If you dread being up close and personal with the mirror, fading sight offers a few positives as we stagger into our dotage. Those little hairs sprouting on chins or nostrils can no longer be seen, those wrinkles are no longer crevices. I'm gorgeous! Be warned not to have a squiz with your $10 reading glasses on.
For many of us, our mirror gazing occurs in the privacy of our home. Bedrooms and bathrooms would seem to be the room of choice. But what of the others who are a little more blatant in their self-idolisation? I don't judge the loving of self a bad thing, afterall somebody's got to, but in public... please!
Today I stood in the lift, squeezing in with four other people. Nobody's gaze met, it was as if were modelling for a department store catalogue. But one, I wouldn't say attractive, girl turned to the mirror at the rear of the lift. She thrusted her arm forward motioning me move from my little corner so she could get a good look at herself. Although I was trying not to goggle, I attempted surreptious. There she pouted and preened. She flattened phantom stray hairs and licked her lips. She raised her eyebrows and lifted her head. All the while her eyes were trained on her reflectoin.
As the lift reached my floor, I could no longer bear witness to her glorious preening.
The beauty industry thrives on our fear of getting old, or much, much worse, looking old. Advertising products aimed at those in the muddle-age are modelled by the practically embryonic. Girls in their twenties are seeking repair-work from plastic surgeons. I could start on the ethics but where would I stop?
Beauty is something to behold. I love watching people whether they be fairytale beautiful or Dickensian in their abject ugliness. We all know we should be looking for the goodness of the soul, but let's face it we always have a good look at the packaging first. It that is found wanting, we don' t bother to find out what's inside. Sometimes we return to the discarded and marvel at our stupidity.
Mirror meandering is marginally better than soul searching ... now don't me started on the navel. It's omnipresence is all encompassing but that's another industry fuelled by fear and guilt.
Off for some beauty sleep.
