A Fresh Start

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Maybe the woman I saw looked very similar, even almost identical. However, I couldn’t accept that this aging version of myself, with all her fine lines and graying hair, was truly my mirror image. I studied her for a long time, tracing each wrinkle with my finger, when the thought came to me:

“Maybe it’s time to finally do something about the way I look.”

My opposing voice of reason reminded me that I’d seen the best dermatologist in town, and tried the most expensive serums. I had even resorted to injections that made my skin feel frozen in place. What else was there for me to try?

The reply that came sounded less like a thought and more like it was coming directly from the lady in the mirror.

“I know what you should do.”

My eyes locked with those in the looking glass. Now I knew for certain that this couldn’t truly be my reflection, because the corners of my lips - her lips- were turned up, and I was nowhere close to smiling.

“I think what you need is a fresh start.”

I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening, not really. And yet, the reflection’s grin grew wider, and she spoke again.

“You said it yourself, you’ve tried everything there is to try. So why not try something new?”

Then, I felt someone grasp my shoulder and I let out a short scream. “Jesus, honey,” my husband quickly pulled away his hand, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but we’ve gotta head out soon or the restaurant won’t seat us.”

I turned back towards the mirror. This time all I saw was my husband and myself, exactly as we were, bathed in the warm light of the vanity. My mouth opened to tell him what had just happened, when it dawned on me just how crazy that would sound. “Don’t you look pretty,” he said, shaking his head and feigning disbelief. “Can’t believe I managed to find a wife who’s such a knockout.” I returned his compliment with a weak smile. “Thank you sweetie. I’m ready to go.”

Later that night, I laid awake in bed with my husband sleeping peacefully by my side. Despite all that had happened earlier, my mind was occupied by the waitress who served us at dinner. She was just so young, so beautiful. My husband must have thought so too because he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. It was frustrating, almost heartbreaking, that he so rarely looked at me that way anymore. I thought about what the mirror had said; maybe it was time for a fresh start. Whatever she meant by that.

“This is ridiculous,” I thought, “How could I take advice from a figment of my imagination?” Still, I found myself tossing the covers back and quietly making my way to the bathroom. I closed the door softly behind me and flipped on the vanity lights. All I saw was my own self, looking more worn than ever. I leaned in and my breath fogged the glass. When did this happen? When did age set in and turn me into someone I barely recognized? I almost hated this woman I saw, so unattractive. So undesirable.

“Does it really matter?”

I looked up at the mirror, and there she was. With the same toying smile, eyebrows raised in question.

“All that matters now is what you’re going to do about it. And I can help you with that.”

I followed her gaze down to where I kept my beauty products, and spotted the small, flat blade I used for shaving my upper lip. I couldn’t understand what she was getting at. I picked up the razor and looked to her for instruction. She was also holding the razor now, and she mimed using it. So I lifted the edge up to my face, pulled my skin taut, and started swiping down. The fine little hairs and dead skin sloughed off in a satisfying way. When I stopped to examine my work, my skin did look much smoother. Yet the reflection was frowning.

“You have to go deeper.”

“Deeper?” I asked aloud. “I can’t go deeper, I’ll cut myself.”

The smile the reflection gave in response made my stomach turn. Though something in me felt as if I couldn’t disobey her. So once again, I found myself holding the blade to my cheek. I took a deep breath in, and on the exhale, pushed into my flesh. At first the blood appeared as tiny red dots. I could barely feel anything. But when I swiped down, the blood began seeping out of the gash. I felt dizzy, and thought I might pass out from the pain. I dropped the razor and looked up to see the reflection enraged.

“You can’t stop! This is the fresh start you’ve been looking for, now finish what we started.”

So I continued. The reflection’s smile was back, and with each stroke of the blade she let out a quiet laugh. When I leaned over and vomited into the sink, her giggles became cackles. I brought my hand to my face and when I felt the unfamiliar texture of exposed muscle, I vomited again. The world around me was going dark. The last thing I saw before the black filled my vision completely was the reflection’s expression. She finally looked satisfied.