Chapter 5: The Mirror

The following is a work of fiction, and continuation from the previous posts, Chapters 1-4:  

I would be lying if I said I didn't go to the party thrown by my neighbors that Friday. However, if someone had asked me, I would have pretended not to be interested in attending. But my curiosity had peaked when I held that invitation in my hand at my mailbox, and had been sealed after the girl had introduced herself to me.

I had starred at my closet for what felt like a couple hours as I fretted over what to wear. I hadn't been to one of these in years. I hadn't been into someone else's home in a few years. I hadn't talked socially with others in God knows how long. If I had had my entire wardrobe with me that were hanging on lonely racks back in Los Angeles. If I had had that entire closet, I would have spent half a day trying to decide what to wear. My entire closet was a beautiful story – it was filled with cocktail dresses that had danced with famous souls, sun dresses that had tasted the ocean waters in far off places. But the best were my favorite tops that had wine spilled on them from a party I hosted. You see, I hated to throw out anything of mine. Even though I hadn't worn some of these clothing items in years, I refused to let them go. Instead, I continued to line the walls of my closet with clothing that's filled with stories of my past life. My closet here in this bungalow in Florida was a very different story than Los Angeles. My closet was basic - it was filled with neutral colors. White blouses, black t-shirts, dark jeans, one beige jacket, a black dress, while most of my closet was filled with running attire of some shape. Still, I somehow fretted over what to wear for quite some time. It probably was the vodka soda speaking to me that early evening when I decided on the one black dress I had brought with me. I hadn't worn a dress in what felt like years. I slid the dress over my head and zipped the side up feeling and looking like a completely different woman than the last several months. It hung loser than when I had worn it last, whenever that had been. I couldn't even remember what I had purchased the dress for. My skin was more bronzed that I remember, and my calves and arms held toned definition. I stared at myself in the mirror, with no trace of makeup on my face, and realized I hadn't truly looked at myself in the mirror since I had arrived in Florida. Of course I had looked at myself each morning and evening when I rose or got ready for bed. But that was habit. That's the habit we all get into in life. Looking for the flaws – "what makeup needs to be removed?" "What makeup needs to be added?" "Where did that blemish come from?" We look for imperfections at this time of day - when you rise or before you go to sleep - and try to correct. That wasn't what I had neglected to do. No, what I hadn't done in what felt like eternity was truly look at myself. I stared at myself for quite some time in that mirror, inspecting each crevice, outline, wrinkle. My cheeks were not as bronzed as the rest of my body, but they were more tan than usual. There were a few more wrinkles under my eyes than I last remembered. Oh, the joys of aging as a woman. My dark brown eyes were the same. Or were they? They were filled with years of regrets – could you see that now as I continued to age? My dark long brown hair even had hints of caramel coloring from all the time spent in the sun. I sighed as I stood there in the mirror peering at myself from what felt like an outside lens. I had heard how beautiful I was over the years by countless strangers, even Henry told me if not every day, every other day. Yet I was one of my toughest critics and hardly thought it could be true. It was much easier to ignore those comments than embrace them and face what that truly meant for my life. I stood there in the fluorescent lights of my tiny bathroom and felt like I was discovering what I looked like for the first time. A part of me, a very small part of me, liked what I saw for the first time. It suddenly hit me as I stared at my glowing face, that the beauty I disliked was the lack of beauty inside my soul. I downed my vodka soda and eventually made my way to the party. What a mood to be in while I ventured to my fist party in years.