I was soaping my face this morning and glimpsed into the mirror. I thought I saw an old, white-bearded man instead of my reflection. Talk about an inkblot epiphany. Is that what my self-image like? I always say that reflections are as they are, direct opposites of reality.
To paraphrase Mulan: When won't my reflection show who I am inside. I mean, I do truly feel like an old geezer at times. All wrinkles and weariness and feeling that I wasted my youth. Sans stubble and other old geezer stuff, of course.Still, there was a certain interesting symmetry at play here. There could be no reflection more positively opposite to what I was in reality.
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