All mirrors are not created equal. I mean they’re all the same right? A piece of glass designed to reflect all that is me and return it hotter and skinnier…or something. I heart my bedroom mirror. No matter how much I weigh that thing has me looking like I need a meal. The bathroom mirror….not so much. Someone who is a shad chubbier with lots of cellulite stares back at me over the watchful eye of “John.” I do a bit of duck and weave to avoid it but lucky me… we have triple mirrors. 3x the fun. Yeh. Just when I think I’ve outrun my ass in mirror #1…BAMYOW…mirror #3 displays a lovely side view of my menopause gut aka “The Gunt.” Not ideal. If my husband is anywhere in the vicinity, I disappear quicker than fried chicken at a Weight Watchers meeting. I prefer he see me all Spanxed up…everything sucked, tucked and properly positioned. If there’s any hope of sex it will be bcs I’m dressed or it’s dark….mmmmmkkkay.
Let’s talk department store mirrors….criminal. I would seriously like Dr. Henry Lee (fav forensic expert) to investigate the matter. Somethings up. You know how I know? Glad you asked. I can walk into Forever 51, try on junior jeans and look like…well a 51 year old in junior jeans but that’s not the point. My point is no matter what I put on, the super secret mirror makes me look thin. I just want to know what they put in the damn glass so I can update the mirrors at the crib! I’m tired of looking like Gisele at Marshall’s and a busted can of biscuits at the homestead! Is that too much to ask? I think not. I watched a Dateline special about the so called “skinny mirrors.” They are designed to make you look skinny even when your fat back screams otherwise. However, according to Lester Holt, they are supposed to have a sticker that warns of their trickery. Don’t you know I’m all up in the TJ Maxx dressing room crawling around looking for the sticker before I declare my hotness to the rest of the so called skinny people in the stalls next to me. You’re welcome. I’ve yet to find it. That either means I am actually thin or blind. I fear the latter. And for what it’s worth I do not recommend crawling around on the floor at TJ Maxx. It’s clear to me some of you were raised by wolves and not the kind that eat their young…unfortunately.
The other mirror that’s dead to me…the hand held. Ya know the one you use to see if you have lettuce in your teeth or lipstick smudge. That one. Whoever invented it seemed to have good intentions and very little sense. If the full sized mirror can’t get it’s shit together, why would one think scaling it down to the size of a cookie was a good idea? While it has the obvious advantage of not highlighting the scores of fat cells from the neck down…we have “fat neck” and other things to consider. One quick check of the teeth post consumption and I’m forced to realize George Washington and I share the same set of chompers?! They looked so good when I brushed them this morning. Scale those bitches down in the wrong light and we are talking straight yellow slabs of wood sisters! Not ideal. No amount of whitestrips will save you from the mini-mirror. It’s very unforgiving. Don’t even think of taking the hand held down south to check out your undercarriage. Not even Jiffy Lube wants to see that thang. Scaled down…. you’re looking at mangled chicken gizzard…at best. Listen I don’t make this shit up. I’m saving you the trauma of finding these things out for yourself. No one said my job here at Sisters in Fat was easy.
Let’s end on a good note…the mirror I love. Thus we have come full circle. Back to my bedroom mirror. It’s tall, wide and makes me look good. Just how I like my men, as it were. It’s an ideal scenario for sizing up all that is me. There’s enough room for me and lots of other stuff; which much like the rear view mirror makes objects such as myself appear smaller. More than fair. If only the world could see me as my favorite mirror does. I fear I would be in such high demand and who wants that…really. So to stay on the DL I hide out in my bedroom admiring the image staring back at me. If only for a moment in time I get to be “skinny me.” It all goes to hell when I have to pee and visit John and the triplets or pick something from my wooden teeth. Fuck. Well, what have we learned from all this? Lester Holt is a liar, mirrors are liars and if you want to look good you need a big ass mirror! Carry on…