"Stop looking at yourself," her (adopted) mother would scold, whenever she tried to steal a glance at her outfit in a window reflection; "You're so vain." She had never really had a full, full-length mirror. Of course, she had a mirror, everyone had one of those small rectangular ones that eventually became shorter than her, etc., but she never spent any time in front of it, lest her mother ever see her looking into the mirror beyond a quick glance or whatever amount of time was exactly "correct." Her mother never explained to her the Rules of Mirrors and Reflections, only that one was not to stare at one's self, ever. Except that her gymnastics academy and her dance studio(s) were all covered in mirrors, of the torture type, and they were there for her (and everyone else, obviously) so that she could stare at herself doing gymnastics and/or dancing. Her antique dresser also had a dresser-top mirror into which she also never looked, and when she finally went off to college, she still never had a full-length mirror around. There are, perhaps, a few years in there when she lived, again, with one of those too-short, too-narrow mirrors, and again, she never thought to spend any time looking into the mirror at herself, of course, never. And since 2018, she has had no mirrors beyond the bathroom wall mirror that comes pretty standard with most bathrooms in most apartments, etc.
[twenty-one years ago]
She sits.
She scrolls.
She uploads a profile picture.
She uploads a profile picture of herself.
She uploads a blind-selfie.
That's me she thinks to herself.
[thirteen years ago]
She sits.
She scrolls.
She uploads a profile picture.
She uploads a profile picture of herself.
She uploads a bodybuddy/lifemate snap.
That's me she thinks to herself.
[six years ago]
She sits.
She scrolls.
She uploads a profile picture.
She uploads a profile picture of herself.
She uploads a self-timer, front-facing selfie.
That's me she thinks to herself.
[two days ago]
She sits.
She scrolls.
She sets up the first, large, full-size mirror that she's ever had.
She sews.
She snaps some mirror selfies.
She sees herself in the mirror every time she passes by it.
She cannot help it.
The mirror is enormous, especially in the one-bedroom condo.
I look fat she thinks.
No you don't the bodybuddy/lifemate responds after she accidentally says it out loud one time.
I'm supposed to think I'm fat she secretly thinks to herself.
You look hot the bodybuddy/lifemate drools.
Oh yea? she teases.
[yesterday]
She sits.
She scrolls.
She uploads a profile picture.
She uploads a profile picture of herself.
She uploads a full-body mirror selfie.
Finally, everyone will know that I'm an asian woman! she giggles, silently to herself, as if she's revealing a secret, blissfully unaware.
[today]
She wakes.
Does the mirror make you feel like you're living with an asian person?
are the first words out of the bodybuddy/lifemate's mouth.
I can't believe you just asked me that
she balks as she remembers the thought she had, just yesterday.
What do you mean?
the bodybuddy/lifemate inquires.
I realized, just yesterday, that I had not seen myself as an asian woman, until yesterday
she begins as she starts to laugh-cry uncontrollably.
Yea, I know this about you the bodybuddy/lifemate smile-shrugs.
She looks at him.
She stares into the mirror.
She sees.