Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall- What the Hell Happened?

I'm officially depressed.

And this time it has nothing to do with the weather.

It has to do with dressing room mirrors.

They suck.

Big time.

But what's so depressing is- they don't lie.

Oh, yeah, they may distort things from time to time, cast unattractive shadows,
and enlarge certain areas that are better left microscopic, but- they never, ever lie.

In fact, I came face to face (literally) with a dressing room mirror yesterday that wasn't only honest and frank, but downright sarcastic.

First of all, let me tell you that I was trying on dresses.
You know, those sheathy, form fitting body wraps that don't cover your legs, seldom hide your arms, and never live very long in my closet.

I don't do dresses.

But I must find one for my daughter's wedding. So, I have no choice but to subject myself to torture and truth before critical dressing room mirrors.

The first dress I tried on made me look six months pregnant.
The second dress made me look like I'd left my backpack tied around my butt.
The third dress made my knees stubby, my arms flappy and my neck crepey.
The fourth dress....

Well- there was no fourth dress!

After the first three, I was ready for a large alcoholic drink, a long winter nap, and a body transplant.
I was sick.
And tired.

And so ready for change.

I've got to get control.
I've just got to make those dressing room mirrors say kind and flattering things.
I just need to shrink the bulk, minimize the menopausal mommy bump, and melt those wing flaps.

And, ladies, please don't suggest Spanx.
Because sooner or later you gotta take them off.
Did you ever see Clark Grizwold cut the rope on his Christmas tree in the National Lampoon Christmas Vacation?

That's what would happen!

Today I'm trying to be strong.
To fight my fight.

And hopefully win the battle of hateful dressing room wars.

But it ain't gonna be pretty!