It's not easy to face yourself. Our eyes as humans are usually positioned right in front, enabling peripheral vision. We live our lives looking at people, places, objects. We seek to look and observe, to search and to find. For those of us blessed with mirrors, we often take mere glances when necessary but now and then......there will be those times where you'd have time and you'll stare. You'll see how you look like, thinking about yourself, how other people perceive you. You'll try to psychoanalyze yourself and you'll end up with either doubt, satisfaction or both. Most of all, you'll end up seeing yourself both on the outside and through the way your mind works in response? Your inside too.
I remember, I was young. I was probably around 9 or 10 and I had just watched a Casper movie downstairs. I loved Casper because what child wouldn't want to believe that something depicted as evil could be good? I was an innocent child that sought to see good in the world. I went up after that and bathed before opening my slender, wooden cupboard that reached from ceiling to floor and stuck to the wall. Back then, I had a full length mirror that was attached to one of the doors that was convenient for usage. In my towel and wet hair in disarray, it was one of those first times I recall looking at my reflection and really trying to analyze myself. Tan skin, small eyes, different coloured halves of lips, a bumped nose, a distinctly high forehead and a fat face. My eyelids were small with one side a little oddly folded and my eyelashes short and droopy. I didn't like it.
You know, the thing about the media and the whole 'beauty concept' is that no matter how old you target it for, young girls are the ones who look up to their mothers and end up growing up wanting to be prettier too (mostly). My mother wouldn't exactly be considered your typical image for beauty but there was beauty nonetheless. I thank God sometimes that she's not a long haired, slender beauty. Her character shone vibrancy and life that seemed to add contour and highlight to her features no beauty product could ever achieve. I had a good example but she too used beauty products now and then for work. TV, movies and magazines I saw at the hairdresser didn't help either. I saw myself at that age of 9 or 10 and though I knew I had a beautiful smile because my mom told me so, I also saw imperfection.
Perhaps my self-esteem was contribution to my thoughts because I recall upon seeing my short, droop eyelashes....I then attempted at using my wet fingers to turn them upwards, hoping that perhaps the water would make it stick and become longer or something. I then proceed to try using my fingers to make the fold becomes a singular one with more of a prominent look. I didn't realize back then how blessed I was for a chinese to even have double eyelids. I recall getting so frustrated after that, thinking of how much popular and better-looking all the other girls were. You see, I was what you could call a 'banana'. Someone who's yellow and chinese on the outside but who spoke english like a white on the inside. I went to a chinese school for 6 years as a kid and I guess you could say till now, there are still emotional scars that represent those long years but I won't go into details now. My point? I was a typical case of another insecure, little girl that just wanted to be accepted and understood.
Ever since then, I became a bit more self conscious. I still remained an akward, impulsive yet shy child but no matter how tough I tried to act like sometimes, the honest truth was that I was empty on the inside. I sought comfort and solace. I knew my parents loved me although my dad was and still is a tough man to understand. My brother was always so sweet as a kid but till now it is still hard to accept such affection because I'm simply not used to it, simply because unlike my brother....I was the gloomy child that wore pink but never smiled in pictures with other people other than close family. I do regret it but even till now, it's hard to accept physical contact from people and I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps it had a link to my insecurities. I didn't know how to behave, to act or to be like everyone else. I'm glad I had no other choice than to just be myself but there were many times I wished I understood or knew what it even felt like to be one of them. Because I never got that feeling, ever.
The mirror shows you a reflection of who you are. It shows you features as they are. Sometimes our own judgement upon ourselves cloud what's truly there, sometimes we choose to not see certain things whether it may be beauty or not. I'm so glad and blessed that not only did I have a physical mirror, I had my mother. She would tell me the good and bad about me. We spent long conversations along the years and I know my words could cut sometimes but though I'll probably never tell her, I have great admiration for how she's stood strong through God for our whole family and how despite my snarky comments she'd still encourage me with care and love lacing all she said. She never held back either, perhaps phrased things differently, but never held back. A good mirror never lies to you, it tells you and shows you what and who you are. The choice is in how we receive it and what we do about it. If both kinds of mirrors have taught me anything, it is that perspectives matter. Facing who we are may become hard because of that but should we seek to look and observe, to search and to find? We'll understand and see clearly eventually. It is possible.
