Today's post is inspired by a rather angry Facebook post of a friend (I use the term "friend" very lightly in this situation). I am always somewhat saddened by this person's posts because they are nearly always very negative, but those are thoughts for a different day.
Today, he claimed that, "Women wonder why men have trust issues and end up cheating...look in the mirror." Having dated him for a short time, I can only assume I am one of these issue-inducing, cheating-causing, evil women. So I decided to do just as he asked.
I sit here writing today, fresh out of the shower, planted in front of a mirror. Let me tell you a little about what I see there.
I see a girl who looks a bit disheveled. Wet hair falling everywhere. Glasses on. Makeup scrubbed off. Chipped nail polish. Eyebrows that could use some work. She knows she could make herself look a little more put together, but is comfortable with what she looks like now.
I see a girl in Blackhawks pajamas, revealing a passion that goes beyond her waking hours. She loves this sport and this team, and revels in sharing this passion with her family, close friends, and even the millions of other unknown fans out there. It makes her feel connected.
I see a girl whose Blackhawks pajamas are inside out. She's an adult now, learning to teach her own class, but there's that six year old inside her that still hopes that inside-out pjs might be the extra luck needed for a snow day tomorrow. She'd like to spend it coloring in her coloring books.
I see tired eyes. It's a Monday night, and she has spent the day with 22 rowdy first graders. There's a stack of guided reading books in the background, reminding her of the things she still needs to prepare. But there's also a smile when she thinks of these things. She's new to this, only a student teacher, but she already loves every second of it. She knows this is what she was born to do.
I see some muscles that are a little more toned than they used to be. She's been saying she'd get off the couch for ages now, and she's finally done it. She's not the most muscular girl, and she still has work to do, but she knows there are some clothes in her closet that will fit just a bit better than they used to.
I see scars. She's got that glow-in-the-dark white Irish skin, and a family history of skin cancer. She's already begun to battle dangerous skin cells that will only fight harder in the future. But the scars mean she's won before. She'll do it again.
I see other scars, maybe not quite so visible. A worry line here, a wrinkled forehead there, a kind of slump in her shoulders. Her life hasn't always been easy. She's had her share of heartbreak. She's made her mistakes. But she's overcome that too, and you better believe she'll do it again.
Above all, I notice a contentedness about her. She's fought some tough battles, but she's come through. She knows where she is and she's happy with it. She's got a long way to go, but she knows the way. She's got support around her and strength within her. She's going to go far.
And so, sir, I know what I see when I look in the mirror. I'm even proud of it. What I'm not interested in is what you see when you look at me.