Mirror, Mirror

I want one of those mirrors where a comb over looks good.

I want one of those mirrors where having cottage cheese thighs and wearing short shorts looks hot.

I want one of those mirrors where wearing a t-shirt that says “I’m with Stupid” is still funny.

I want one of those mirrors where applying make up so that the color on the face is different from the color on the neck makes me not look like a clown.

I want one of those mirrors where wearing a muscle-T after 50 looks awesome.

I want one of those mirrors where lots of sparkles and fake gems on t-shirts makes me look wealthy and regal.

I want one of those mirrors like Richard Simmons has that says, “yeah that tank top and striped shorts looks great, no one’s making me into a caricature of my former self.”

I want one of those mirrors that only shows the plastic surgery so I don’t see the rest of my wrinkled, decaying body and the illusion seems worth all the money.

Truth be told, I admire all those people. Because I’m too self-conscious and sometimes wish I wouldn’t get so nukey (it’s a word-my word) about a little fat and could let it all hang out at the gym. My hat off to you! Oh wait, I don’t like being bald, the hat covers that up. At least in the mirror.