Have you ever walked by a bathroom with its door open in your own home? If it’s like my bathroom, the mirror above the sink can be seen through the open door and if you have something on your mind, seeing a person in the corner of your eye in your own personal bathroom can scare the crap out of you. Without a conscious mind, seeing a reflection of yourself when you least expect it can have heart-skipping results. It’s just you, but in that moment of doubt, it’s a stranger. Someone watching you vacuum the living room. Someone waiting for you to notice him.
When I’m by myself, my mirror is my best friend. When the music is thumping and I’m feeling unusually hyper, that good-looking guy in the mirror is my biggest audience. He’s there to sing along with me. He’s there to critique my outfit. He’s always honest about how my hair looks and he never lets me leave the house with something in my teeth. When I try talking to him about something that’s been on my mind he mimics me, but I don’t get upset. I know it’s all in good fun.
The man in the mirror may be my best friend when I’m alone at home, but when I’m in public, it’s a different story. I hate public-reflected Brandon. It’s this version of me that stares at me through the crack in the bathroom door. For some reason, whenever I’m in a public place where there’s a mirror, I can’t stand the sight of myself. It doesn’t matter if I’m in a restaurant with a large mirror to make the room look more spacious or if I’m drunk in the bathroom of a club. That Brandon looks so tall and skinny. He looks deathly pale and what’s up with the clothes he’s wearing?
When I’m washing my hands in a public restroom, I hate making eye contact with myself. I can see the guy to my right and his reflection looks the same as his real-life twin. The guy holding his son up to the sink to my left looks the same too. The guy in front of me? The one staring back with that stupid grin on his face? Who does he think he is?
Don’t get me started on talking into a mirror with someone else. If I could stand behind a partition of some sorts, I wouldn’t have a problem looking into a mirror and talking to a friend’s reflection. If I have to stand there, however, and watch myself react to something the friend says? The term cringe-worthy would be the understatement of the year. It’s bad enough that I can never get away from the sound of my own laughter, but to have to watch it is too unbearable for me.
There two versions of each of us. There’s that hilarious goofball that sings with us and makes sure we look our sharpest and then there’s that creepy doppelganger that follows us to public places and watches us from forgotten and unlit bathrooms in our own homes. One is good and one is pure evil. Why can’t the good one be my wingman? “You look great, Brandon. Go and talk to that cute girl!” Instead I get, “Look at you. You’re pathetic. A girl like that would never go with a skinny twerp like you!”
Well I’ve had enough. I’m not going to let myself get intimidated by myself any more. I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. And no message gonna bend any clearer. If I want to make the world a better place, I’ve got to take a look at myself and make a change. That’s what Michael would do anyway.
*For whatever reason, whenever I write an entry outside of this website, copying and pasting is a nightmare. I apologize if today's post looks unusual.
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