A funny thing happened in an elevator this evening. I caught sight of my reflection in a mirror, and I looked away just as quickly, not recognising myself. I glanced back at the girl in the mirror, and felt a tiny jolt in my body when I realised that she was me.
I did not greet myself with a smile, yet I did not despair at the state of my hair, or grumble at my double chin. My worries did not trouble my face. I looked different, or possibly not different at all but just myself without the judgements and the preconceptions, and the desperate, impossible pursuit of ‘perfection’.
I looked away again quickly, savouring this moment and knowing it would not last if I continued to look. In the elevator, fit for seventeen people and full of other theatre enthusiasts,
I felt the same as everyone else; unique and interesting, loveable and complicated.