That damn mirror again

Oh God, I did it again.  I looked in the mirror.

We were going out to dinner at a local beachside restaurant so I showered, dressed and went to put a little make up on to make myself look nice and presentable.  So I stood in front of the mirror and looked.  Then looked again.  And thought ‘damn’!   

Damn.  Damn. Damn it.

When he who created man and woman put them on earth, why did he have to have them age?  If he was so great and so clever, why could he not have placed us on this earth and kept us looking at our prime, forever?

Don’t tell me it was to keep the population down – that we had to age and die to allow the new generation through.  If he was clever enough to make us he should have been clever enough to give us the ability to procreate until the earth was populated with exactly the right number of humans to keep it a vibrant, productive and a happy place to be, forever.  Then he could have all our reproductive bits drop off, or out, and keep the earth’s population maintained at one perfect level, thereby keeping us ageless. For ever and ever.

But he didn’t.

I sighed, that mournful-type sigh of resignation and continued to apply lipstick, with the aid of the strongest glasses I had so that the aging and forever fading eyesight could ensure the lipstick went on the lips and not all over the chin.

Then I remembered.  I remembered Tony.   I remembered those lovely words he used to say to me so often whenever I complained of the aging processes on our bodies.  I wrote about it last year, and will paste the relevant part of that writing here:

….then I was reminded of what Tony had said many, many years ago when I first had a clear, magnified look at my face and bemoaned the fact to him that age, sun and outdoor pursuits are not conducive to keeping at bay the inevitable results of time, ozone holes and weather exposure.  No longer would there ever be a lineless, clear, smooth appearance on this facial full frontal.

Darling Tony immediately responded to my negativity with his endearing, positive retort, “Well my sweet, that’s why whoever our maker was had our eyesight decline with declining years too.  Because with my eyesight getting worse with age I can’t see any of those faults you moan about, I can’t see those lines and imperfections.  To me you look as beautiful as you ever were when we first met.” 

That was so Tony.

The reflection on that memory had me smile.  It brought me back to reality and I relooked at the face in the mirror and reminded myself that looking back at me was a face with a life time of living memories.   

Every line, crease, scar and every sun spot was made with and by memories.   

That young, lineless, clear, smooth face of many decades ago was poignantly naive, gingerly unsophisticated, unsophisticatedly inexperienced and had not yet lived.  This face in the mirror now has lived;  it represents a life that has been full but not yet a full life, and I should be proud of it. 

I am.