Mirror, Mirror

I really admire the way little children are free to admire themselves in the mirror with no shame and total rapture. I'm not sure who it was in my own past, but I distinctly remember one of my friends telling me that she didn’t have a mirror in her bedroom because that was a sign of vanity. I quickly gathered from her tone of voice and the look on her face that vanity was a bad thing indeed. Apparently, there was a mirror in the bathroom that everyone in her home had access to, but no other mirrors were to be found in the building. Even as a child, I thought it strange that a bedroom could exist without a mirror.

Sweetpea’s favourite game right now is to use our bed as a trampoline. As luck would have it the bed is situated directly in front of the dressing table that comes with a three piece mirror. The centre panel is huge with two smaller curved wings coming off the sides; it’s a fabulous piece to look at your self in. Sweetpea will spend minutes (we are talking about a 21 month old here!) jumping up and down, staring at her own perfectly mirrored reflection before her. She never ceases to be thrilled that there is a baby in the reflection each and every time she looks for it. She is amazed and enthralled at her own reflection. Pulling faces, watching herself laugh, twisting and turning as she jumps are all reasons to never shift her gaze from the mirror.

I have to confess that I certainly don't spend the time looking at myself in the mirror like my daughter does. And sadly for me, I don't seem to have the peace with myself to look with no other emotion other than acceptance. I will look at the lines that are starting to permanently etch themselves into my forehead and wonder what cream in a jar could magically erase them. I look and groan with misery every time I spy a grey hair among the dark auburn mop of curls that I am crowned with. And I know without a doubt that the first time I see distinct lines around my eyes is going to be reason enough to run to a psychologist and invest in some seriously deep therapy to deal with the reality of getting older.

What is it that happens to people as they get older that they generally don't spend hours looking at themselves in the mirror with complete acceptance and joy? What happens to us as we grow up into adulthood that loving our own face (and bodies) is something akin to climbing Mount Everest. Sure, there are a lot of people who have done it, but the majority – the vast majority- couldn’t even begin to imagine completing such a task, much less actually pulling it off. Now if you are in the ilk of Elle McPherson, then this piece isn’t going to mean a hell of a lot to you. But if you’re like me, then recalling the complete acceptance from your childhood of your face for what it is (a mirror to your soul) is an odd sensation.

Recently on television I watched a woman interviewed on the Oprah show that had been the victim of domestic violence. As with most women in abusive situations, she wasn’t blessed with a great deal of positive self esteem. One night her supposedly loving boyfriend in a fit of unwarranted jealous rage shot her at point blank range in the face. There was almost nothing left of her face, just a gapping hole where the features we expect to see were gone. Even the best plastic surgeons in the land are not going to be able to recreate what she had been blessed with naturally. She will never look the same again. What stuck me about this woman was her courage in finding the truth that Self isn’t made up only on what is visible to the outside, but that Self comes from the knowledge that we are what we think and do. But I bet there isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t wish that she could turn back time and have one more hour to look at her face and marvel at its beauty.

I'm sure that there will be people who will consider me a bad mother for allowing my child to gaze upon her reflection for as long as she desires and smiling my approval to her when she turns to me, but I don't care. There are plenty of people in the world who will love nothing better than to try and steal her joy at accepting herself away from her in times to come. But as long as possible, I am going to encourage my daughter to reveal in her own features, to see them as a fabulous gift and accept herself as perfectly and wonderfully made.