Tuesday, October 23, 2012

burgundy heart-shaped medallion

Despite what they say, the mirror has only one face. And if you hate that face you see in the mirror, well, then, you're sort of screwed.


I was at senior prom, and I walked into the girl's bathroom. It was very softly lit. The floor and ceiling sparkled with very dark tile, that had little flecks of mica embedded in them. That bathroom looked like a little nook carved out of the night sky. I walked in, my dark blue dress mirrored the starry sky of the bathroom. Everything sparkled, the very air was iridescent. 
I looked into the mirror, and I gasped.
There was a girl in the mirror looking back at me, and she was beautiful.
And that girl was me.
It was shocking.
That was the first time I remember looking in the mirror and being surprised. I was surprised that how beautiful I felt matched exactly how beautiful I looked. Or that how beautiful I looked matched how beautiful I felt. An intersection of the two. There was so much Joy in that little starry bathroom. I was so happy to be beautiful. 
Or was I beautiful because I was happy.
It didn't matter. I looked at the mirror and smiled at myself. And blushed at the audacity of doing so. 
I saw a girl with long cinnamon curls and sparkling eyes smiling back at me.
Her cheeks were flushed from dancing, and her entire body was reverberating with excitement.
The two girls: one in the mirror, one in the flesh, smiled at each other, basking in the radiance of their own beauty. 

No other girl in the world mattered, because in that moment she was the brightest constellation in a sea of stars.

No comments:

Post a Comment