mirror, mirror

The Mirror
The Mirror (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


When I look in the mirror, I no longer recoil. Most of the time I like what I see. The teenage, pussy acne is gone. In it’s place is a pretty face. Nothing too out of the ordinary though. I remember in my teens, my mum standing with me in front of a mirror telling me I was pretty. I know this kind of thing has been bashed in the press recently as encouraging arrogance, vanity, and esteem based on looks. That day in front of the mirror really helped me though, which is partly why I’ve never forgotten it.


When I look in the mirror I see the face God made, the smile people are attracted to, the person he created me to be. My face is the one part of me that is not disabled in some way. I do refuse to have a full-length mirror in my house though. I hate to walk (shuffle, really) past them due to my wonky posture; my backside sticks out and my knees are twisted… it says to me, ‘spaz’. I was once at my mum’s friend’s daughter’s birthday party in my teens and walked past a full length mirror in the ladies’. This is when I first realised the wonkiness, and wondered, is this how others see me? It is something which, rightly or wrongly, has almost haunted me in a way. When I pass a mirror, I prefer to sit in either wheelchair as, although I am sat, my posture looks more ‘normal’. I wonder if anyone else out there who has a disability sees themselves that way?


When I look in the mirror, I one day hope to only see the person God made, with none of the twisted knees, sticky out backside hangups. I guess most people have hang-ups about the way they look. So far, so normal!!