“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the thinnest girl of all?”
The day I lost my skinny mirror, my life shattered.
Ok, maybe that’s a tad exaggerated, but STILL!
Once, my mirror reflected my lumps and bumps as straight lines and smooth surfaces. I loved this mirror almost as much as I loved my shaper pantyhose. During certain ghastly times when I was feeling bloated, I’d run upstairs and sneak a glance. Even my fat outfits would look slim-lined in this mirror.
My family knew this was mommy’s mirror, a treasure to be guarded. If ever there were a fire, someone else had better grab the scrapbooks, because one of my arms would carry a child and the other, my mirror.
Each day I would leave the house full of confidence and with an air of pride. I was looking good, and I knew it. My beloved mirror would never lie.
Until one day I offered to redesign my church’s boring nursery. The toddler’s were screaming, because of the lack of color, texture, and toys. With help from a friend, I hung orange and white checkered curtains, plastered bright and vibrant bugs all over the walls, decorated with puppets, and hung a mirror horizontally at a two year-old’s eye level.
Since I knew hanging anything with glass is tricky business, I recruited my husband to help. His experience is vast, including chandeliers, outdoor lights, and my skinny mirror. I never once considered that he could shatter the look of my hips with one swing of the hammer, but the unfortunate happened – the frame broke. My husband looked to me and said, “Do you have another mirror?”
To find out what happens, head on over to Dani’s Faith, Fitness, and Fun blog.
Happy Friday friends.
What are your plans for this weekend?