|photo by Akida|
My skin is flawless. It really is. It reminds me of porcelain. When I hear talk about the complexion of certain actresses, how perfect it is, I think, 'My skin is like that too. My face has no evidence of pores...'
That is, until I got a magnifying mirror.
Oh, from a distance, and with eyes that are going bad, my skin is perfect. I cannot see any pores whatsoever. It looks like I'm wearing foundation (although I never have succumbed).
But with the help (thanks so much) from the magnifying mirror, I can finally see that the pores on my face are large enough to land a rocket ship in. (In fact, I hear a helicopter circling now. Excuse me. I'll be right back.) There are also huge brownish spots. (Someone muttered, "Age spots." I backhanded them.) And the wrinkles and furrows are deep enough to host a pipeline. With room for some tree-huggers to crawl around, as well.
I got the mirror because my eyebrow hairs are quite wily. Elusive, clever, they are bent on survival. They even have evolved and now use camouflage to avoid getting plucked. Pure white, they blend in with my pasty skin and are almost impossible to see. The magnifying mirror helped me hunt them down, but now I am too scared to use it.
If you see one of those mirrors in the store that boasts "10x" or even more, don't walk away. Run. And put a lower wattage bulb in your bathroom. Your self-esteem will thank you...
(This was prompted by a comment Lisa Ricard Claro made on Tammy Goodsell's blog. They are both funny, but I don't read their blogs anymore because my pantyliners have a limited capacity.)