Shining a light on that which is best left in the dark

I splurged and bought myself a new makeup mirror a couple of months ago, Costco had a whale of a deal on a ultra magnifying, lighted number that I couldn’t resist. I’m of an age where the odd eyebrow hair looses its way enroute to my brow and sprouts in unflattering places on my face, namely my chin. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, so often times I can feel the offending whisker but I can’t see it. It has been very frustrating.

A mountain of mirrors, boxed and strategically placed just past the entrance to the warehouse, greeted me as I walked in. Having just located a decent parking spot in less than an hour of scouring the lot I was certain I was having a lucky day. This new, ultra magnifying, lighted marvel seemed like the find of the century, or at least the decade. For less than twenty bucks I was finally going to be able to tweeze my chin to perfection. I placed a box in my cart and continued through the warehouse ogling and justifying several other to-good-to-pass-up purchases.

The first thing I noticed about the mirror when I plugged it in on my bathroom counter was how attractive it was – it was definitely more modern than the mirror now waiting for a ride to the superfluity store. The second thing I noticed was the brightness of the light – I barely needed to turn on the overhead fixture to light the room. The third thing I noticed was my reflection – my pores looked big enough to swim in and those eyebrow hairs on my chin looked like trees. I was in worse shape than I’d even imagined – I had been running around for years unwittingly looking like something out of a zombie movie.

I immediately needed to purchase new tweezers. Plucking started taking up considerably more time in the morning. I definitely needed better facial products – my pores were gigantic and clogged. I made a quick trip to our local drug mart and dropped seventy three dollars into their coffers.

I plucked and exfoliated like a fiend for a few days. My skin started to look parched and red. I headed back to the drug mart and parted with another eighty-six dollars – this time on night cream, day cream and sunscreen in color coordinated bottles. The shelf in my bathroom was getting an elegant makeover and our bank account, a workout.

I moisturized the bejeesus out of my face. My pillow case developed a sheen where I lay my head for the beauty sleep which was now being disturbed with nightmares about my face puckering like a prune. My wonderful new, ultra magnifying, lighted mirror was exposing parts of me that aught to have stayed in the dark. The situation was becoming worrisome. I had to face my face first thing every morning and my days were deteriorating as fast as my beauty budget.

My skin felt decidedly smoother with all this plucking, exfoliating and moisturizing but my makeup application needed some sprucing up. I bought a high end foundation but it still appeared to pool in creases and wrinkles. I bought a primer so the foundation would even out, and a pore filler/wrinkle putty product designed to give my skin the appearance of being ironed. My wallet was getting thinner as the products layered on my face thickened.

This new ultra magnifying, super lighted deal was costing me a fortune and my reflection wasn’t improving. I had developed an obsession, which was fast approaching a depression, about something all the products in the world would never be able to fix — whether lighted and magnified or left in the dark — I am getting old. My face is showing the wear and tear of every smile I’ve smiled, every grimace I’ve grimaced – and I’ve been doing both for years and years.

My face has had a day or two in the sun – it’s had better days and is destined for worse, but it has generally been a happy face. Or it was a happy face before the ultra magnifying, super lighted mirror parked itself on my bathroom counter. Checking my reflection has become somewhat like picking a scab – it hurts and I shouldn’t do it.

The last time I was at Costco I noticed the mountain of mirrors was gone – either a vigilante came in and saved a whole swack of women from themselves or the local drug mart is trying to accommodate a sudden run on wrinkle filler and tweezers. For me, I’ve taken to only turning the mirror on quickly if I happen to feel one of those whiskers sprout. I try not to inspect the rest of the masterpiece staring back at me, illuminated and magnified. Along with age comes wisdom and I have just learned that some things are best left in the dark.