Why is my mother in the mirror?

Does this ever happen to you?  You’re having a perfectly fine day and then you walk by a mirror (or a store window, or a shiny car) and suddenly — you stop short.  “What’s my mother doing here?”  The first time this happened to me I was just having a regular morning, brushing my teeth, and then … whamo … suddenly the woman I saw in the mirror wasn’t me, it was somebody much older than me.  Where had those grey hairs come from?  What happened to that fine line that used to run along my jaw?  Why doesn’t my reflection in the mirror match the image of myself in my mind?

Neuroses aside, this aging business is quite the challenge.  Franz Kafka said that “Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old”.  Nice words, but I’m just not buying it.  

Sooner or later I am going to have to deal with some decisions about the way I look. Retirement, it seems to me, is a bit of a catalyst for this, because just the word itself brings images of aging to mind, and even though Mark Twain may have believed that “Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter”, I believe that a few pink streaks in my blonde (over grey) hair, and bright colours in the closet does matter.  


  • When do we stop colouring our hair (pink streaks included)?
  • When does comfort become the key issue in buying shoes?
  • What do you do to keep looking/feeling young-at-heart?


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