There's really nothing in the world for making a person feel old like getting ready in the mirror beside a pre-teen girl. I love this girl more than I could ever express... and yet, I think I am jealous of her.
I notice that her eyes are bright and clear and sparkly. And then I notice that mine look a little tired, lines around the corners, maybe some concealer would brighten up those darker circles? I notice her hair, shiny and thick and lustrous, falling just perfectly. And I notice mine, hanging limply with a few greys illuminated by the florescent lights. Her face, unlined, smooth and perfect. And mine... not.
She's such a pretty girl. The irony, of course, is that she struggles with the self-consciousness that seems to come so naturally with adolescence. She looks in the mirror and sees flaws. Flaws that the average woman would kill for.
It's a good thing she's modest, really, or I'd have to kill her and pluck out those pretty eyes of hers and make them mine.
:-)
.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment