BOO-HOO

Looking at myself in the mirror I can appreciate what Mother Nature has given to me in terms of concoction of genes, a little bit of my mother's and a little bit of my father's side. I can see the shape of my mother's eyes, and the thickness of my father's nose, the graciousness of my mothers figure combined with the sturdiness of my grandmother… The melancholy of my aunt (father's sister) combined with the chipper dimples of… I don't know where those came from….

With all that, I want to say I was never proud with how I look. And while it could have taken a role in my development as a person (although it didn't because during the most important years of development I was a fatty and not found attractive by any of the sexes, therefore I was able to actually develop a personality), I consider myself lucky to have been given a sort of an advantage in terms of looks. But that's pretty much it – lucky. I really cannot take any credit for it, as much as I want to. All in all, I consider looks, IQ, talents, and so on, to be like Monopoly's start – certain assets you begin your game with, like luck from Russian roulette or gambling. After that, it is important what you do with that, it is important how you capitalize on them.

Ummm, that is not where I was going with this.

Something sad that I see when I look in the mirror is the tiredness. The aging of the skin, it's losing its colour, it's losing its freshness. I see my big brown eyes looking behind my (currently brown) bangs and that is the only part of me I remember from before. The rest - the tired skin, the sad pale lips, the tricky little fine lines - those are new and uninvited. I am not ready to let go of youth yet, I am not ready to let go of life as I know and enjoy it. But there's that mirror. And that calendar. And they are screaming at me, it's time! What for, they do not say. But I have to hurry.