I
showered sprightly (doesn't make sense not to do so in high-spirit),
dried my hair vigorously, achieving spectacular waves and volume. I put
on make-up, a crisp white blouse with frilly cuffs, black pencil skirt
to emphasise my curves, a black leather jacket, and went out onto the
street listening to Billie Jean in the ear-phone. I walked to the
rhythm of Michael Jackson, very sure of myself. I am content and feel
like Farrah Fawcett in Charlie's Angel, with my long blonde hair blown
in the wind and feet firm on the ground. Yeah, I am having a good day
and I feel attractive, sexy and desired.
I
got to my destination and stop briefly in front of the hallway mirror,
to reassure myself (that should have told me I wasn't as sure about my
attractiveness as I thought) and I had the shock of my life. Everything
had changed! I didn't look like Charlie's Angel at all! More like a
tired housewife with unkempt hair that was crimped and choppy, dry skin
and visible wrinkles at the outer corner of my eyes. What had happened
in the brief time between my house and my office? Do I always look
like this? When did I cease to be Farrah Fawcett? This just can't be
true. Why is it that it has to be me that make a mistake? Couldn't it
be the mirror? Faulty?
That's
it, mirrors can be wrong, when they are not correctly put together.
They would distort your image, like the ones in the amusement parks.
People too. Some always make you feel beautiful and others make you
feel an ugly duckling or even invisible. I know I am beautiful because
my lover always looks at me with adoration and treats me like the
princess of his dreams. I am sure I am beautiful like all the other
women are when they are loved, whatever their age and however they
look. I am simply beautiful because my man makes me feel so; and I believe and
trust him with all my heart. He doesn't love Farrah Fawcett; he loves
me.
I don't need the mirror to tell me how I look. It can't reflect the love and beauty in my heart.
Next: 21st Feb 2012 An Irresistible Ad.
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