Mirror Image

"Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person." - from Anne Tyler's novel, Back When We Were Grownups

Have you ever looked into the mirror and wondered who that person was? Wondered, perhaps, how you came to look that way when you feel like someone completely different? I'm sure you have.

Walking past a shop's display window, you may have caught a glimpse of yourself dimly reflected there and been surprised because you thought it was someone else. Years ago, I used to pose for artists, and whenever I viewed their renderings of me I was surprised by what they saw - looking through their eyes, I saw a completely different person. It was actually rather uplifting, for they brought out a beauty I was unable to see. I couldn't see it because I have grown rather used to my mirror image; I have grown accustomed to all the judgments I make upon myself whenever I see it. They run something like this:

You are plain.

You are not sexy.

You are very ordinary.

You are not feminine enough.

You have no flair.

You are not special.

In short, the voice tells me that nothing extraordinary will ever happen to the person who lives in this body, dresses like this, has hair like this, has a face like this. This voice is louder than the one in my heart that says otherwise.

See, my heart's voice tells me that I am the heroine of all those beautiful folk songs, the object of love ballads, the princess in the fairy tale, or even the stacked and sexy babe of that Hollywood film. I  feel  like those people. But no matter how much I feed it with books, songs, poetry, and dreams, that little voice is usually squashed flat as soon as I look into the mirror. I'm daydreaming away about this person I feel like, then Blam! – the mirror voice says, "Oh, it's only YOU."

Yup. It's only me. Still envisioning myself with long hair, seated before a gorgeous fireplace while playing the cello for the love of my life, while the truth is that my hair will never be long (I've tried), there is no romantic love of my life, and the best I can manage on the cello is "Little Brown Jug." Still imagining myself fighting it out with baddies while doing backflips like Xena: Warrior Princess - when I can't even touch my toes. Still waiting for my prince to come and rescue me.

Who am I? Who are you? What do your voices say? Which voice do you listen to?

I will keep listening to my heart's voice, and I will keep dreaming. I hope you will, too. If your mirror voice tells you your heart's voice is foolish, I hope you will simply read more, sing louder, and dream even more outrageously. I think the next time my mirror-voice tries to put me down, I'm just going to stick my tongue out at her.

Leigh Deacon 2002