Why My Mom Thinks I Need a Mirror

I don't know how I can be surprised every time I look into a mirror. But I am.

I just returned from a spur of the moment trip. Right from the onset of our adventure, I knew my hair was having a bad day. Right from the moment I stepped out of the shower. I thought I could rewind the hands of time and work with it. It never happened.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I thought "Oh no!" ... this is bad. This is really bad. I straightened it (again). I fluffed. I ran my fingers through it. I walked away. What can you do when you are having a bad hair day 500 km away from home ... and my hairdresser ... and hair dye (I did suggest at one point that we could turn this into a hair dying party). It was what it was. And it wasn't good.

I forgot a lot of things as I packed in a frenzy, with many interruptions. I grabbed (what I thought was) eyebrow pencil and eyeliner. Thank goodness I can wear my glasses while I pencil in my brows, because I caught myself before I put lipliner on my brow line. Not that it helped much. I got home after a day of sporting my pencilled in brows (I'm sure that I used the eyebrow pencil?) and the first thing I noticed was my eyebrows (and they had to be bad, to be noticed over my awful hair).

My eyebrows were ever-so-much-more noticeable because I forgot mascara. My eyes were unseen ... but have no fear. I had eyebrows. Ohmigosh. I had eyebrows ...

Then there is the spaghetti sauce on my forearm that I wore to my last dance lesson. Another time that I returned from a dance lesson and realized (after I was home) that my pant zipper was undone. And had been for my entire dance lesson.

I suppose I should have a full length mirror by the door, so that I could give myself a once-over before I walked out in public. Then again ... upon catching a glimpse of the 'me' that was walking out the door ... I may never leave the house again.