MIRROR, MIRROR ...

I’m having a “Nora Ephron” day. 

I say this, because every time I have one of those self-loathing situations that drags out, anywhere from moments to days, when you just feel badly about absolutely everything in direct relation to you, I think of her book, “I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts About Being a Woman.” I read it a couple of years ago. Her words linger.

In church yesterday, someone complimented me on my necklace. It’s this heavy wooden black affair I usually wear when I don’t like the look of my neckline. I said, "Thanks. It's my 'Nora Ephron' necklace.”

On days when I look into the mirror and think these things, I simultaneously wonder if I’d be bothered as much if I had less time to look into the mirror and ponder my gray hairs, my neck, etc. If I were more important, making bigger contributions, etc. — probably not. Maybe.

I read an article in yesterday’s Sunday paper about Demi Moore. I’m not in the states right now. I don’t Twitter. (Is Twitter now a verb?) I had no idea about the Demi Moore/Twitter thing until I saw it in The (London) Sunday Times.

That might be just one of the millions of ways Demi and I differ. When I feel badly about myself, I hide — my neck or sometimes my entire self. I can’t imagine feeling badly and jetting myself out into the stratosphere in a leopard-skin bikini.

That just makes me sad — not only for myself (because I wouldn’t DARE strike a pose in a leopard-skin bikini), but for Demi and for all women, everywhere. I worry for my daughters and my daughers’ daughters. Because in spite of the countless amazing contributions women are making to society  — what has changed?

Today I logged on to get my CBS Sunday morning fix, and watched a story about 1940s starlet Hedy Lamarr, who shared the screen with the likes of Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. She was voted “most desirable” pin-up during World War II.  She was beautiful. She was also smart. She invented and patented a model for frequency hopping for secret communications. While the Navy did not utilize her work then, it is widely utilized now by the military. She gave the patent to the Navy.

I went on watching, only to discover in her later years, she became a recluse, due to botched cosmetic surgery and her loss of self-worth, according to her son. She died alone in her late 80s somewhere in Florida.

In a larger context, my mirror moments and the news of the day speak to me about women in society and how, despite the best efforts of countless, we tread the same waters, moored by many — society, the media, ourselves.

And it all starts in our heads, or maybe on our heads  — self-image and outward appearance seem to work in unison. I wanted to set an example for my daughters; let them know that growing old doesn’t have to be feared or — here’s that word again — loathed.

I spent the last year or so consciously not addressing my ever-increasing gray hairs. It was as much an extension of being tired of finding a new, trusted stylist each time we move, then repeating past mistakes with storebought products, as it was a test. I wanted to see if I could do it — if I could permit myself to let my hair go by way of nature. I wanted to somehow show my daughters how beautiful they are from the inside out. I wanted to set an example.

Tomorrow, though, I have a hair appointment. 

It came down to something someone once said to me about giving birth naturally, which I also thought I wanted at one time. He simply asked, “Would you go to the dentist and deny yourself Novocain?” A big comedy strip, type "NO!" bullseyed into my brain; still does whenever I think of it.

If resources are available, accessible, affordable, then why not utilize them to make ourselves more comfortable … with ourselves, in the mirror, and otherwise. But to what end? What are the boundaries? What are the cyclical effects? I wonder … maybe I’ll just have a trim, donate the rest to charity and keep thinking about it…


"The color of truth is gray..." — Andre Gide