Is That Me?

I don't spend a lot of time in front of a mirror. In fact, I don't spend any time in front of a mirror. All the mirrors in my house are at standing-up height, and I'm always sitting down. This is not an accident, or a failure of planning. I like it that way. It's no inconvenience; I don't wear makeup, I can't brush my own hair anymore, and I don't need to look in a mirror when I'm brushing my teeth. I can go for long periods without seeing my reflection.

So when I do happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'm always surprised. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm looking at myself. I'm neither particularly gorgeous, nor particularly hideous. Kind of average-looking, and I'm okay with that. The person in the mirror wears her surprisingly gray hair tied at the back of her neck, a style that does not particularly suit her long, narrow face.(Scarecrow willingly brushes my hair and ties it out of my way, but styling and blow drying would be asking a bit much.) She could stand to moisturize more. Her hands look particularly crippy -- bony and wasted, clenched into fists, covered with age-spotted elephant hide. They don't look like they're good for much. (They aren't. But I guess a little hand lotion wouldn't hurt, either.) And that chair! Or is it a tank? (It's a tank. A Permobile C300 power chair. I'm sitting on it, so I guess I forget what it looks like. But hey, it's basic black.) She looks like she was poured into it. Why doesn't she sit up a little straighter?

It must be like going to a high school reunion, and finding that everyone else sent their parents. (My 40th would be this year, if they were having one, which they aren't, and I were going, which I wouldn't.) One of my best buddies when I was a kid sent me a recent picture of herself. I was gobsmacked. She looks just like her mom.

It's kind of like that. Every time I look in a mirror. The crippy hands and the power chair I can blame on MS. I think the gray hair and general decrepitude is just gettin' old. I guess I could spend more time on my appearance (Correction: I could have Scarecrow spent more time on my appearance.) But I really don't give it much thought. It's not a problem as long as I don't look in a mirror.

Just, please, don't tell me I look like my mom.

Scarecrow just stuck his head in to tell me we have an appointment to apply for SSDI next Friday afternoon. I'm so looking forward to this. Really. It'll be fun.