Mirror, Mirror

June 13^th

I just have to get this down on paper. I believe the first time I noticed it I was walking past the post office.
I’m certain it was the post office because I’d just sucked my stomach in, in anticipation of their front window, that acts like a mirror on sunny days, (After all these years I wasn’t about to let what amounted to a full-length mirror sneak up on me.) when low and behold instead of seeing me with a sucked in stomach, I saw the reflection of everything around me; with myself nowhere to be found. Anywhere.
The next time I noticed it I was getting out of the shower a day or so later.

I was feeling a bit daring after 3 weeks of ridiculously healthy food and no white wine (Boo-hoo!) and decided to take a purposeful inventory of the old girl who carries me around. Well, all I could see was the vague outline of….. someone.  I had to assume it was me.  So I did a little jig just to be sure.  It was me all right.  I never could dance.

Now, I thought, that is strange. Strange, but not too disturbing. It had to be an illusion.  Some phenomenon that would pop up on one of those brain stimulation sites we women past a certain age subscribe to like Food for Thought, or Brain Droppings. I put it out of my mind.
Until about a week later.  I was putting on my make using my 5x lighted magnifying mirror, having switched from my 10x magnifying mirror as a present to myself on my 60^th birthday, and I quite clearly saw that I had no mouth!  Well of course I really did have a mouth.  I knew because I immediately stuck my hand in it and pulled on my tongue and clicked my teeth.  My mouth, my lips, my tongue, were defiantly there.  But my reflection defiantly was not.

It was clearly time for the round of specialists. I wanted to get started right away so I could quickly move onto the shrinks I knew I would end up with.  Believe me, it didn’t take long.  One visit to an ophthalmologist, one to a neurologist, and whoops!  Off I was sent.

I went to three, just to be sure, and of course, they all asked me if I felt invisible.  What else is a psychiatrist going to ask an almost past middle-aged white bread woman who no longer has a career and still has no grandchildren (Let’s not get started on that!) who has lost, OK maybe misplaced, her reflection?
“Ah, I see you say you “lost” your reflection.”  They all said in one form or another.  “Do you feel invisible?” They asked in one form or another. “Our society is tough on older women, not like in some other countries where maturity is valued.” They all explained.
And you know what I said?  I said, “Baloney!” Actually, I said something a little stronger, but I hate to put vulgarity in print.  “I don’t feel invisible!  I feel like I have no reflection! And I know that isn’t normal. And aren’t we all supposed to fit under some bell curve of normalcy?” 

They all in turn, once again, said about the same thing:  “I’d like to schedule a series of appointments, but first I’d like to examine your insurance, and/or credit card.”

I turned them all down. Because the scary thing was I was beginning to like not having a reflection.  I found it freeing to never be caught up in how I looked. I found it so freeing in fact, I felt able to say things to people that needed to be said for a long time.  Things I wouldn’t ordinarily say.  I felt very much myself. Myself at 6, 10, or 12, before the world and I attempted to civilize me.  I dressed solely to be decent and avoid arrest. Now without a mirror to seek approval from, I felt unfettered.  Not only was I free to be myself, but I was, as the kids say, `diggin’ this whole no reflection thing- tremendously.

That’s about when I noticed I couldn’t see other people’s facial expressions.  People’s faces began to blank out as soon as I spoke to them; like they’d just woken up from a pleasant nap. No matter what I said from boo to I love you, to watch out for that spider, to you’ve just won the Nobel Prize for being

you, no one’s face moved a muscle.  Sometimes the rest of them moved. (Quite a bit, like out of the room.)  But that wasn’t my problem. So I didn’t worry about it.  I just continued to say what I wanted, when I wanted to.
At this point, I could have gone back to the doctors but I figured by bother? 
 I was diggin’ this development too.  I was now saying anything I wanted, to who I wanted, and never had to put up with any nasty expressions in return. I spoke back to snarky store clerks, I swore blue streaks using words I never thought I’d say, I rambled on knowing I had to be boring people but because I couldn’t tell for sure I didn’t let that bother me so what the hell. I bid what I wanted at bridge and had fun imaging the expression on my partner’s face.  I told my daughter at a family gathering, in front of everyone, to stop being a fool and have a baby now while she was still young enough to get her figure back and I was still young enough to babysit.  I was my own Salim Rushdie speaking truth to power, (Or at least to my relatives and neighbors and that bitch who sits in front at spinning who always says at the end of class “let’s go another 10!”) and I was never happier. 

Now I can’t tell anything from people's voices. I hear no inflections whatsoever. But as I told you after the two other developments, all in all, I don’t give a rat’s ass.  I’m me and I’m running wild through the world and I am digging it!!

June 25th

I’m sitting in my bedroom behind a locked door.  My family and a few other people are just outside, talking to me in what I hope is reasonable language.  They’ve been out there for a few hours and though I can’t speak for their tone, things seem to be heating up. (I suppose in hindsight it might have been a mistake to bring the baby thing up to my daughter in front of her sister in law who has two precious toddlers and has always been naturally thin because it seems like my daughter is leading the charge.) They are insisting that I see someone.  That “I’m not myself.”   That “Things can’t go on as they are.”  (Who says?) They all love me and miss me and blah, blah, blah, and they are sure I can get better with the right doctors and medicine. Who said I need to get better?  They just want me in a straitjacket.  Of one sort or another.

July 6th

I have a significant update. First I should mention I had to spend a couple of days in a hospital for the very, very, nervous, as I like to call those places. (All I had to do to get out was act reasonably normal

until my insurance ran out. Didn’t take long! My insurance stinks!) When I got out I continued to act normal, at least in front of my family, just to get the heat off, and guess what? Since about 4 days ago I really am back to normal. I can read expressions and hear tones of voices and see myself in the mirror and of course, I’m responding “appropriately” just like before.  Everyone around me is thrilled. 

Oh well.

July 12th

I have yet another significant update!  This time a marvelous one! I’ve just realized after all these years wandering around on the earth…get this…!  I’m gorgeous and everyone loves everything I say!! First the gorgeous part: I look in the mirror, any mirror, even those dreadful window reflections that sneak up on you and the backs of  teaspoons, and I don’t look a day over 25! And what a body! I may take a trip to Hollywood to see if I can get a gig on one of those Indie films! (Is that where young beautiful people go these days to do that?  Or is it Portland? ) And since everyone

loves everything  I say, preening and laughing and giggling at my slightest remark, (I can say no wrong, believe me, I’ve tried!) I should be able to get  “kickstartered”-I believe that's the word-  and get a lot of money with no work just like all those other beautiful well-liked people do these days when they want money and haven’t really done anything. Then when I get a lot of money…well who knows? With looks, popularity, and money I can do anything or say anything I want!  I’ll be free again!  Heck, I’m free now! Maybe to hell with the money! I’m beautiful and well-liked so anything goes! I can be or do anything I want and people still want to please me!  For instance, just now a bunch of people are gathering outside my bedroom door trying to get me to come out.  They want to talk to me for my own good they say, (probably have some business deal they want me to get involved with or at least … "attach my name to", isn’t that what they say in Hollywood and Portland?)  Or maybe they just want me to come out so they can gander at my countenance for a while. Has to be something like that.  Remember KISS?  Keep it simple stupid!    Don't overthink it!  So I'm heading out there now.  I'll try to write more later, from Hollywood or Portland.  Or maybe both!