An Archive of Growth?
Life Stuff

Write a letter to your reflection in the mirror.

Well, time is beginning to catch up with us, isn’t it? It could just be allergies making things puffy, but there’s now a little line next to my eyes when I smile. Either way, it’s a portent of things to come.

I don’t take care of myself like I should. I’ve always hated the feel and the smell of sunscreen, and since I’ve turned out to be allergic to the chemical-based ones, I use that as an excuse not to use any. The barrier-based ones tend to be sticky. There’s also the fact that I sweat easily, thanks to medications needed to keep me sane, and so whatever I put on washes right off. That’s why I stopped wearing make up.

But I should, at the very least, be moisturizing. Moisturizing will, allegedly, cover a multitude of sins. It’s like cake frosting, only it helps undo sun damage or some shit. This may not even be true, it may just be what my mother has drilled into me. Still, even knowing that the magic moisture will save my appearance, my vanity, I don’t do it regularly. I only moisturize nightly in winter, when my skin feels dry, or with aloe in summer after getting “a touch of sun.”

(A side note: when researching for The Move, I tried to find out if I could get spray-on moisturizer in Cape Town. You see, I found that spritzing Bare Minerals’ spray-on moisturizer immediately after a shower both makes my skin feel better and fulfills this MOISTURIZE NAO edict. I search five sites and couldn’t find any moisturizer. Of course I couldn’t. I was spelling it with a Z. Moisturiser, that’s the ticket.)

I’m dooming myself to be a wrinkled, spotty prune. I’m not vain enough to care, apparently. One day I will, and then I’ll regret the vagaries of my youth.

What I’m most concerned about are the lines that run from nostrils to below the corners of the mouth. Those say Old to me. Everyone gets them at some point, if only when they make expressions. But one day they become worn in and permanent. I haven’t got any permanence there yet. Thank god.

I’m surprised this move hasn’t brought on more gray hair. Not long before we left I found a long one. For a while I thought I had one in my eyebrow, but it was just blonde. Every time I think I’ve spotted one, I have to examine it thoroughly to determine if it’s silver or gold. This is very stressful.

This is supposed to be a letter to the me in the mirror, so here’s my message.

Dear self,

Take better care of us. Not now, obviously, everything’s pretty cockeyed right now, but soon.

Love, moi

Photo: Jonathan Lidbeck‘s Introspective chicken

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