The mirror and the me

It’s Monday morning. It took me way too long to get myself out of bed and now I’m frantically trying to catch up the time by moving around the room as fast as possible. I open my cupboard to discover I have nothing to wear, despite having a closet full of clothing. I try on five outfits. Nothing looks good. So I give up and wear the first one I tried on. I’m now even later.

I try to do something with my hair and quickly realise it’s untameable. I tie it back. It doesn’t look good, so I keep fussing.

My two-year-old son is in the room, calling for me to watch something he’s doing. I mutter the correct responses but don’t actually see what he’s up to. I’m looking in the mirror.

My husband senses my agitation and tells me to stop fussing because I’m beautiful no matter…