I just did my hair for the last time without a mirror. I am now sat on a train travelling from Basingstoke to London Waterloo (not looking at my reflection in the window next to me) having spent a wonderful time with a wonderful friend (and her husband), on my way to spend some time with extended family, and can smell my shampoo, extra strongly aromatic today for some reason. No complaints.
I've come to the end of two months without mirrors. And I feel refreshed.
I've relied on my inner mirror for 60 days. The image of myself I have in my head. The one that has memories of what I look like, that imagines up a picture of me depending on how I groom myself. These images are inaccurate at times. Like the time a couple weeks ago I rocked up to a lecture thinking my makeup was presentable, but was greeted by a bunch of (honest) friends who leaped onto my face, fixing the explosion of eyeshadow that had somehow spread across it. If they had been a little less honest, or had a sense of humour closer to that of my father, I would never have known I looked like a 5 year old who had raided her mum's makeup bag and used the contents to craft a less than intricate work of art.
Until I was told I looked off, I had no idea. I contently walked about with my mind on something else.
That's how these couple months have been. I haven't been showed what I look like, and so the image in my head is what I had to go with. Thoughts did arise making me feel insecure, but not being able to look meant I was able to shrug them off quicker. I couldn't obsess over trying to fix my look, because well, I haven't been able to see how to do so. Not being able to look meant I looked elsewhere, got distracted, and spent less time thinking about my outward self.
Do I still have insecurities? Yes. Do I still care about what I look like? Yes. Do I want to start looking at myself again? Yes I do, and I'll let you know what has changed after my first look tomorrow!
