I have two mirrors in my 250 sq ft apartment.
The one above my kitchen sink is purely ornamental because it’s placed really high (says the short girl). I can’t see myself at all unless I jump in the air, which gives me one second to see if I look decent enough to go out in public.
The other mirror is the bathroom medicine cabinet. I have no idea how my outfits look from the chest down. I don’t know if I’m wearing high-water pants. I don’t know if I’m wearing pants at all. I could drag a chair into the bathroom to see my middle/lower section, but I’m too lazy to do this.
As a result, I haven’t given much thought to how my body looks. Out of sight, out of mind, right? I can always look down, but this angle is very deceiving. And friends are usually too kind to tell you the truth.
Squirrels, however, have no such problem.
A friend of mine has lots of them in varying sizes – mirrors, not squirrels – in her house. It’s a little alarming to suddenly be able to see your whole self from room to room. I either have to walk really fast or avoid eye contact with myself so that I don’t stop in front of one of them.
I’ve worked hard to accept the things I don’t particularly like about myself; I prefer not to give my inner critic any chances to chime in. As long as I’m healthy and I exercise regularly, it doesn’t matter how my body is morphing. I like to eat cheese. With wine. And charcuterie. I like dessert. I have a crush on David Chang. I think I’ve shared a little too much.
Really, the only thing I’m concerned about is if I remembered to put pants on before I’ve left the house. You’d be surprised how long it takes to realize you’ve forgotten them, especially if you have other things on your mind, like running into a gang of handsy squirrels.