older sister, on the other hand, was (is) very vain and the mirror and having ‘mirror time’ was number one. perhaps that’s why i eventually became oblivious. but then as i got older i stopped doing things like brushing my hair everyday, and hey, if my clothes don’t match, well even better! perhaps it’s immunity?

i SHOULD check myself out more often, just for small things like a spot of dirt on the end of my nose , but now i also find myself wondering who i’m looking at in the reflection, because she’s much older then i remember , but exactly why should i care about liver spots when i loved them on old people when i was a kid? if i’m really lucky they’ll grow into a big map on my face like the birthmark on Gorbacheve’s head.

but then i also like looking at my hands and all the scars from mishaps over the years and the liver spots developing there. i consider my sagging, stretch marked breasts as beautiful because they fed a child.

if i have a drop of mustard on my shirt, well, not much i can do about it, so why bother fretting in a mirror?
maybe i see the looking glass from the mad hatter’s point of view, rather than alice?