Mirror, mirror…

fun-house-mirror

Most women have a love/hate relationship with their mirrors.  I know that’s a huge generalization about women.  I hate generalizations.

Many women have a love/hate relationship with their mirrors.  Still too much stereotyping, right?

Okay, AGMA has a love/hate relationship with her mirror.

I know that some men probably do as well.  A few, maybe?  Standing on a busy, crowded street corner, it’s obvious that there are men who clearly haven’t looked into a mirror in a while.  A long while.  I’m pretty sure the last time my husband really took a good gander was in 2006.

I really don’t understand how mirrors are made.  I think they slater some sort of silver reflective stuff on a piece of glass, pop it into a frame and voila!  And I don’t understand how some flat-as-a-pancake mirrors – not fun house wavy – reflect your image so differently than others.

I am, of course, talking about SKINNY mirrors and – the bane of my existence – FAT mirrors.

I have a full length mirror hooked onto a closet door in my bedroom.  To my horror, the first time I looked into it, I realized it was a FAT mirror.  Oh – the gnashing of teeth that has gone on since then…

I try to avoid looking in it as much as possible.

And of course, because it was an El Cheapo mirror purchased at a Walmart (before it was converted to patriot detention center ala Jade Helm 15), it was made in China. Coincidence?  I don’t think so…

The FAT mirrors fit right into the Chinese plan for world domination.  Somehow. Probably by lowering our morale.  Not too smart on their part.  The run up to the 2016 U.S. election will do that for them.  We’ll all be shell shocked zombies by then.

Still, I blame the Chinese. You can read the first installment about the plans for Chinese world domination through Christmas card glitter here.

This past weekend we hung a 2X4 foot decorative mirror on the wall on the landing of our stairs leading down to our garage.  Now I can see myself every time I go to use my car.  Every.Single.Time.  For the love of God, what was I thinking?

But it’s a NEUTRAL mirror.  That’s good because it’s nearly two flights of steps to go back to my bedroom to change into more flattering, less fattening looking clothing.

A few weeks ago, I worked up my nerve, stepped up to my FAT mirror and laughed in it’s face.  Actually I guess I laughed in the chubby-cheeked reflection of my face.

“You will not have the last word!”, I declared. “I will know that I have reached the promise land of weight loss and fitness when a svelte, fit AGMA stares back a me!  And that day is coming my friend….  That day is coming!”

And I might be just a bit crazy…

But to hasten that day, I bought a Groupon-type three month membership to a local gym.  I’m currently having an affair with the rowing machine there.  I rendezvous with it twice a week.  Don’t tell my husband.

A rowing machine can give you an amazing, almost full-body workout.  It’s a tough, sweaty 40 minutes.  And then I smoke a cigarette and ask it if it was as good for it that it was for me.

But it’s worth every drop of sweat because…

They have a full length SKINNY mirror in the locker room!!  A SKINNY mirror, for the love of Pete!

And I look absolutely fabulous in it, darling, in my cute little workout clothes.  Well, they’re actually my running clothes that I force into multitasking, but the mirror and folks at the gym don’t have to know that.

I’m sure it’s an “intentional” SKINNY mirror.  The gym wants you to become addicted to seeing a funhouse version of your body.  And I think I might have to join the gym when my three months is up in September.  It’s all part of their diabolical plan.

But no matter how crappy my week is, there is harmony in the universe when I look into that mirror.  I hear wind chimes and chanting, and see rainbows and unicorns.

It’s obvious that my image is as distorted in that mirror as in the FAT one I have at home.  But it encourages me.  It makes be want to continue exercising like Richard Simmons and eating like Twiggy at a Weight Watchers convention.  It makes me want to learn French, go zip lining and make a soufflé.  It makes me want to be a better woman.

Take that you Chinese Politbureau! Your evil scheme to demoralize us with distorted images of ourselves has been foiled.

We are perfectly capable of demoralizing ourselves without your help, thank you very much.

Our politicians – and Donald Trump (who I truly believe is actually an alien given a semi-human disguise like in the movie Men In Black) – pretty much will make sure of that.

Can we just all go into hibernation until after the 2016 election?  I’m pretty sure I’d lose more weight…