The Lie

Phyllis Dansie
Volume 23, No. 4

I have recently realized that I hate my mirror. I have looked into it each morning for the last few years, and all I have seen is an aging, overweight woman whom I don't recognize. This has depressed me for quite some time, and I have reached a point where I dread that first glance each morning when my mirror tries to tell me something I'm not ready to face. But more recently, I have come to know that my mirror is a liar because it tells only half truths. 

LHK

I agree; I am getting older, but that just means I'm still alive. 

Yes, I do have a more matronly figure than I have ever had or wanted, but my grandchildren find great comfort in crawling up into my soft, cushioned lap and laying their little heads on my soft breasts. 

The truth that my mirror neglects to tell me is that I am also a good person. 

I am kind, loving, forgiving, and caring. 

I am hardworking, loyal, faithful, and compassionate. 

I am a daughter, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, a friend, a co-worker, a neighbor, my husband's lover and business partner, a vocalist, an artist, a writer, a gardener, a seamstress, an accountant, a lover of animals and nature, a storyteller, a housekeeper, and a darn good cook. 

I am intelligent and make a contribution to the lives of those around me.

I am so many more things than what that damn ole mirror tries to tell me every morning. 

And since that mirror is a liar in the first place, then why should I even believe it when it tells me I am old and ugly? 

I'm probably still young and beautiful as well.  

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