Issue 11.2 Spring 2016

11.2 cover image

 

 

Man in the Mirror

 

Katie Morris

 

 


If you look in the mirror you might see someone you hope to be. Someone you used to be. You might hate the person in the mirror, or you may love them. You may be ashamed of that person. Annoyed with that person. But that person is you, or a rendering of you anyway.


It might be morning, and you might brush your teeth. It might be morning, and you might not brush your teeth because you don’t mind your bad breath at first. Maybe you’ll just swish around some mouthwash. It doesn’t matter though because the person in the mirror doesn’t have breath.


You stare at that person and think maybe that person should lose weight. Maybe that person should gain a little weight now that the bones are sticking through. Maybe that person’s thighs touch, or maybe that person’s biceps aren’t cut enough. The person in the mirror needs work, but it doesn’t matter you will get to it tomorrow.


You’re fucked up. It’s night now. You grip the porcelain sink and stare into your rocking reflection. You might smile, you might grimace, and you might keel over and throw up in the toilet. There could be needles on the sink, and maybe a spoon with cotton beside it. There might be scattered powder from your foundation, or smeared lipstick coating your reflection.


Look at you it’s morning again and you made it through the night. You might look a little pale, or you might look too tan. Your skin might be an ebony black, or a few shades lighter. You may stare in the mirror and wish that your skin was another color. You might hate the blemishes that scar your skin, or you might love the scars that line your body.


Of course you could hate all of these things, but you will always be back. You cannot hide from the mirror.


You could try to hide in baggy sweat pants with an oversized sweater, but you will still see yourself. You could wear the tightest jeans sold, or some nice basketball shorts that cover your gut. Maybe you wear stripes to look slimmer, red to look sexy. Maybe you try on that suit from years ago, back in your twenties. Maybe you try on your mother’s clothes to see what your future will be like.


You have work today, and maybe you want to look good for that meeting. Maybe you don’t care and wear your standard suit with the same tie you wear to every Monday meeting. Maybe you kicked on a pair of stilettos, hoping your legs will look slimmer. You look at the reflections in the glass always checking yourself out. Maybe you stare too long at yourself. Maybe you stare until your neck cranes backwards to catch that last glimpse.


It’s afternoon, and you’re stuck in the bathroom with the runs. You stare at your shitting face, and maybe you laugh. Maybe you cry because you look constipated, and that reminds you that you need to eat better. Your gut agrees, or maybe it doesn’t because you didn’t take your medication and this is the result. Your abuse of alcohol has torn your stomach, and now you finally have hip bones from not being able to stomach anything. You can finally look down at your toes with an unobstructed view.


Gym time. You finally made it. You stare at yourself while you do yoga. Maybe you look at your peace face. Maybe you stare at other people in the room wishing that your reflection was as perfect as theirs. You’re lifting weights now, and your biceps are shaking. Maybe your biceps are big ‘ol guns, and you see other stares reflected at you in the mirror. Maybe this makes you feel good, and maybe you feel like it was worth it.


Maybe that smile that the other person gave you wasn’t just a smile. You stare back in the mirror, and either return it or it turns into something else. You leave together, or maybe you don’t and you’ll think about it later. You start to see another person in the mirror, another person beside you while you brush your teeth. Maybe you imagine that person, or maybe that person used to stand there beside you.


The mirror never lies, but you might. Or maybe you don’t, but what you see is what you get.

 

 

<< Back

Euphemism Campus Box 4240 Illinois State University, Normal, IL 61790-4240