Yesterday someone I have known since we were young student nurses together sent me a photo. In it I am around 18 or 19, young, slim and carefree. I can still remember being that person, and think I know what I saw when looking in the mirror back then. I have never been one to gaze at myself in the way people often seem to today. I use the mirror to check my hair, or to apply make-up (on the rare occasions I wear any). But I know that my face was unlined, I know that I possessed more freckles on my nose and face than I wanted to see. I know that my eyes were blue and I know that my nose was small and slightly upturned at the tip. This is still the case unlike the colour of my hair, which is no longer the shiny auburn it was then. No hair dye ever brings that colour back.
Mostly I feel the same as I did then. I don’t feel weighed down by the many years and experiences that have occured since then. Ok, so I have aches and pains that I never seemed to have then. My body is 37 years older after all. When I look in the mirror at myself I can still see that young girl somewhere, but she is much less visible. I wonder if I look the age I am, younger or older. It is so difficult to tell that about yourself. I think that I should dye my hair as there is grey growing at the sides and roots. I wonder if my eyes are less blue, though people tell me that when I wear certain colours it makes my eyes look really blue. Are my lips thinner and my face fatter? Probably.
But does any of this matter? I have a man in my life who tells me that I am beautiful. Who proclaims that when I orgasm I express pleasure through my face. A man who makes me laugh and with whom I am beyond happy. When I look in the mirror I see someone who is happy with their life. That is enough.