mirror mirror

i've never been one to gawk into mirrors. my grooming and primping rituals, if that's what i do, are brief. over the course of an average day, it doesn't occur to me to look at myself. i don't study my reflection in passing windows. i rarely check out my face in the car sunvisor. i don't rush to washrooms in restaurants to 'powder my nose'. admittedly, it does occasionally occur to me to stress about the bigness of my hair, but it's not like i can do much about it when the worry strikes.

then there are the metaphoric mirrors - ones you find yourself facing thanks to a brutally honest friend or an equally ruthless life situation. strange that i would find those less intimidating than tangible glass. i mean, what screams back at you from a metaphoric mirror is often much more painful and revealing and humiliating than anything you'd notice in the compact. and yet, i can go there... perhaps not always to linger, but i do look. sometimes you have to save the staring for later. but lately, i've been staring. there are aspects about the general structure and make-up of my life that i am trying to get real about. not easy when those potentially unhealthy blemishes deliver no direct harm. in fact, they appear appealing, even desirable. but over the long haul, i have to consider how they might be detrimental. and i'm contemplating what to do about it. i'm sure all this is boringly cryptic without the gory details, but i'm pretty sure i'm onto something.

also, i've come to believe that few mirrors are as harsh as the one thrown up just before the parental units are slated to arrive. next week, the folks will land with my diminuative godmother who is on a two month north american tour - her first voyage abroad in 30 years. they will only be here a few days, but the pending visit (aka inspection) puts my fledgling posture of courage on notice. not so worried about the inevitable environmental scan - the homestead is clean and the yard is less despicable than it has been. but what about those imperfections that vim can't fix? even if they are smudges in the abstract, you'd rather suffer the squalor than have your parents point them out.

i guess i just wish the overall state of my life was as sparkly and organized as my house. as it is, the correlation is, well, NOT. nobody said balance is easy. same with other perceptions: i am trying to reconcile how i see things about myself with how others do. [this does not have as much to do as one might think with a drunken stranger named doug proclaiming loudly and repeatedly last night that i am "fabulous" - more about the dwindling credibility of random gay fans later].