Getting Down To It

First one arched brow then the other
is wiped away.
The rosy shading around the eyes,
the illusion of health and beauty,
all gone in one stroke.
The padded clothing,
the long, flowing scarf,
the dangling, swinging jewelry-
all discarded.
What is left makes me afraid.
A skeleton, a shadow,
a hollow shell
without a face.
Without protection or health or sex.
Where did I go?

I wrote that last April one night after getting myself ready for bed. That's always the hardest time of day for me. I have to take my makeup off and face the truth in the mirror. The truth that I suffer from a disorder that I cannot control, a disease that has taken something away from me and left me feeling incomplete and abnormal. I can pretend all day long that I am confident, that I feel beautiful, that I am healthy. But at the end of the day I literally have to wipe it all away.

I know I'm not alone. I know we all have moments where we have to be vulnerable and face a truth we'd rather run from all day. We all have to look in a mirror at some point. But here's the thing about mirrors: they only show us what we allow them to show us. If I stand in front of my mirror with eyes squinting in criticism, lips pursed in discontent, and shoulders slumped in defeat, the truth I will see is that I have allowed my circumstances to shape my identity.

If, on the other hand, I only allow my mirror to reflect back a head held high, eyes wide open in a search for beauty, a face marked by laugh lines instead of worry ruts, I will see the truth that I have the potential to be the person I want to be. I have the ability to define myself by my accomplishments, my relationships, my purpose, and my gratitude rather than by my disappointments or seeming deficits.

Who's to say that hairlessness is a deficit? Why should wiping makeup off at the end of the day feel so dehumanizing? I have a face. I have bright eyes that can communicate a depth of feeling. I have a smile that can attract someone who needs a friend. What do eyebrows do, other than add a frame to an already expressive face? At the end of the day, I am a work of art no matter what. I have shape and color and lines and movement. When you get down to it, the things we add to enhance our "beauty" will always be wiped away or stripped off--but our essence comes through in whatever is left.

So...

First one arched brow then the other
is wiped away.
The rosy shading around the eyes,
the dark and sultry lashes
lovely yet distracting,
all gone in one stroke,
lavish blinds drawn open
letting light flood the windows to my soul.
The padded clothing,
the long, flowing scarf,
the dangling, swinging jewelry-
all is discarded.
Graceful movements of the hands and mouth
free from cumbersome trappings.
What is left makes me hopeful.
A blank canvas, a sculpture,
a newly printed page.
Full of beauty and health and humanity.
Here I am.