I Corinthians 13:12:
“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror...”
I put one of those funhouse mirrors in my bathroom the other day.
What was the matter with me? I shoulda done this years ago.
What was once a terrifying, semi-depressing daily ritual (lookin’ at myself in the mirror every morning) has suddenly become an exciting private pleasure I find myself wanting to repeat several times a day. I’m thinking of dropping a couple of hobbies just to make more time to look at myself in my funhouse mirror. So long communion cup collecting. Sorry, somethin’ had to go.
Depending on where I’m standing, my entire body image can change within seconds. Sometimes I have a fat head, other times a fat body. Other times, I’m suddenly skinny...all over. Without dieting or exercise. Really. This almost NEVER happened in my other mirror.
It’s true, I don’t ever get what you could call a completely accurate reading on what I’ve got going on, but I DO get a pretty good idea. And frankly, in my case, “pretty good” is good enough.
My funhouse mirror shows me if there’s renegade spinach anywhere it shouldn’t be. It instantly tells me if I have neglected to put on pants, or my Hawaiian Hula skirt. And no one as of yet, has been able to secretly put a sombrero on my head without me knowing about it.
What else do you want from a mirror?
I will say that no matter what, a funhouse mirror beats the time Gidget and I lived in that House of Mirrors. That was just plain annoying. And dangerous. It did FEEL like the biggest house I’ve ever lived in, though.
As together we stand and sing.
BP
