So, I was thinking last night...
I have a love-hate relationship with mirrors.
Why do I hate mirrors, you ask?
(Okay, you didn't ask, but play along, okay?)
I hate seeing my reflection. I know you are supposed to look in the mirror before you leave the house to ensure your look is only mildly hobo-esque instead of full on hobo. It's either that, or something to do with accessories, which I rarely add. I find it throws off my hobo style. No, not Soho style. Not bohemian style. My hobo style.
I prefer to just assume things fit and that all is well, then look in a full length mirror
(likely after the point of no return, because I am already way late, OBVS) and discover that I actually look super shitty.
Mirrors also let me see all the great stuff I can pick at or pluck at on my face. That's a bad thing, my friends, especially if I am anxious.
Snap. Yank. Crackle. Pop.
Why do I love mirrors?
Driving, thankGAWD.
And in the gym. Not to look at my slowly-bloating self over time, realizing I should be
AT the gym
IN FRONT of those mirrors more often. No, not at all.
THE MIRRORS CHANGE MY YOGA PRACTICE. You know, when I actually do it once a month. Yoga I mean. The teacher mentions that the left shoulder should be stacked over the left hip in warrior. A subtle change and DAMN! I can
FEEL that! And it looks so much better, so CORRECT, so easy to see how my wonky ass is different from the instructor.
|
Approximation of me in tree pose. I need that tutu. (Via) |
So there you go.
You probably thought I was going to mention nudity or something fun. But c'mon now. We all know I'm no fun.
You know, unless there is tutu involved.
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