Mirror Mirror On the Wall

mirrorThe Goddess needs a Makeover.

Not the blog — the blogger.

Six-0 has really taken a toll on this body. Not that I was knockin’ them dead at five-9…or five-8…or five-7…you get my drift. I’d like to blame my meds, but I think that’s only an inkling of the reason. I suppose I’m not moving around enough, drinking too many glasses of wine, enjoying spaghetti waaaay too much (I had to stop making my own sauce so frequently…I eat it all), too many of my daughter-in-law’s deserts (she is so awesome at those things!), and not enough fruit and fiber.

I need a new photo of myself for a book/magazine that I will be writing a column for (only twice a year, but it’s a great publication: Crone: Women Coming of Age http://cronemagazine.com/). So I need some updatin’. I have a couple of older pics, but upon reflection, they are about 5-7 years ago, and they’re not quite me NOW.  Honest in age, and all.

I’ve asked family to take pictures of me. Ick. I am not photogenic in the least. I’m a lot of fun and magical and goddessy and deep, but I am not photogenic. Recently I discovered “selfies”. (Actually, I never knew what selfies were until someone on FB posted a pic on what cats would look like if they took selfies). So I tried that. Here’s one of me looking off to the side. Here’s one with a smile that looks like I’ve got cramps. This one looks like I’ve got sunburn — or hives.

What is this intense focus on how I look?

I mean, I’ve never been one for the mirror. One of those childhood hangups, I would guess. I must have looked fairly okay all these years, though, for I’ve had a husband for over 32 years that still chases me around. Or rather we ache and pain around. But that’s fodder for another story.

I could go to one of those glamour photo places. They could soft focus me and clean up my Polish complexion and maybe even slenderize my neck. Maybe they could give me a new hairstyle while they’re at it. And either take the shadows out of my glasses or get rid of the puff bags under my eyes.

Maybe I could have my pic taken from far away. But that’s not quite a mug shot, is it.  Maybe I could be peeking through some ferns, or be looking down and reading a book. Or typing on my laptop. But that angle would just enhance my neck rings.

Or maybe I can just get over it. This is not the Miss America Pageant here. This is a publication about the great things getting older offers. Experience, love, insight. Those I definitely have. Then there are the natural rewards.  A mature palate. Check. Old enough to afford Hacker-Pschorr German beer. Check. Old enough to walk/exercise at my own pace. Check. So what does it matter that my aura is a little rounder?

I really can’t lament what I never really had. Just gotta get it overwith. There are more important things in life than looking a little toasty in a selfie.

So…what do you think?

me2

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14 thoughts on “Mirror Mirror On the Wall

  1. My friend that is a great picture of you. You are an inspiration to me about accepting my age. I’m doing much better but I still don’t like saying I’m 50. Keep reminding me it’s only a number and soon I’m going to truly believe it.

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  2. You look loverly, my friend. But I totally get where you’re coming from. Notice how long it took me to post a picture of myself as my gravatar? Also notice it’s a distant shot, so you don’t see the paunch…the skunk line down the middle of my scalp where the dye is fading…the sagging chest. Oye vay! Que sera…sera. Even Doris Day is over the hills. In fact, further over than me. Hmmm…that made me feel better. 😆

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  3. What do I think? You look fantastic. Your inner beauty shines to the surface and you’re . . . you’re . . . you’re just beautiful!

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  4. I think it looks great! Congrats on the column!

    “Or maybe I can just get over it. This is not the Miss America Pageant here.”—Hear, hear. Which is why I got my head shot from JC Penney’s. And saved hundreds of dollars in the process. Then again, a selfie would have been even cheaper!

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  5. I think that you look wonderful. I’d love to get together with the real person. Sharing that six-0 number, I’m accepting more who I am, trying to be true to the Granny, wife, mother, friend, poet, worker that I am at this stage of a life well-lived. Oh, and the extra around the middle, well it helps on hard chairs and sitting on the ground with the grandkids.

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