This week I was gifted a box of goodies by a magazine. This doesn’t happen often, and so I tore into the package with excitement. Inside were some gold patches for de-puffing puffy under-eyes, some beautiful decorative pins, a jade roller for my face, a stack of prints, a brownish purple lipstick and a vanity mirror with lights and different magnifications.
I was most excited about the mirror. For the last 18 months I’ve been rocking a mostly smashed handheld mirror that I bought at a train station and broke that same afternoon. I hate throwing things away or buying more than I need, so I’ve kept on using it, my shattered face looking back at me whenever I go to pluck my eyebrows or put on make-up.
I plugged in the new vanity, opened the plastic cover, turned on the light and took a look.
Inside wasn’t a mirror at all. Instead I saw a picture of a very tired woman with dark circles under her eyes, broken capillaries around her nose, closed comedones, visible pores and lines around her mouth.