Through the looking glass
Me and my reflection in the mirror have been rather good friends since early childhood. We shared a lot of tears and a lot of laughs. The girl in the mirror taught me my best angles when taking pictures. She was brutally honest when my butt looked fat in a particular pair pants (sorry friends, sugarcoating is all well and good, but I still don't like walking around with a fat-looking butt). She gave me a thumbs up and looked rather smug when I had an especially good day. We cried together. We shared stories of new-found and lost loves. She gave me heart when I was ready to give up. And smiled at me when I couldn't muster up the smile myself.
An old friend, recently she started to develop little crows feet that peek out when I smile and some evil looking vertical lines across her forehead when I'm angry. So the recent habit that I acquired is saying hello to her first thing in the morning and examining if she looks any older than the day before. Thus far she's doing alright, old gal. And I try to be of help with different salves and balms. Occasionally I contemplate Botox and Restylane.
So the one thing I have been noticing lately are the discontent faces around me: the drooping corners of the mouth, the forehead, punctuated by deep furrows, and an all in all miserable facial expression that crystallizes itself on the person's face with time. And then you just can't help but wonder why people don't smile more often. If not out of happiness, then at least out of vanity. Haven't you people ever been told not to make faces, 'cause your face will freeze that way?
It's decided, I am starting "smile therapy" in Yerevan as of tomorrow. I'm going to smile at total strangers and hope that I can help at least some people put off Botox by a year or two.
An old friend, recently she started to develop little crows feet that peek out when I smile and some evil looking vertical lines across her forehead when I'm angry. So the recent habit that I acquired is saying hello to her first thing in the morning and examining if she looks any older than the day before. Thus far she's doing alright, old gal. And I try to be of help with different salves and balms. Occasionally I contemplate Botox and Restylane.
So the one thing I have been noticing lately are the discontent faces around me: the drooping corners of the mouth, the forehead, punctuated by deep furrows, and an all in all miserable facial expression that crystallizes itself on the person's face with time. And then you just can't help but wonder why people don't smile more often. If not out of happiness, then at least out of vanity. Haven't you people ever been told not to make faces, 'cause your face will freeze that way?
It's decided, I am starting "smile therapy" in Yerevan as of tomorrow. I'm going to smile at total strangers and hope that I can help at least some people put off Botox by a year or two.