Reflections

I got my hair cut this morning. First time since February. It was relaxing; and then this happened:

In my mirror, I could see the reflection of a woman behind me who was getting her hair colored. She was in her 50s, I would guess. She kept doing this thing where she used her hands to tug back the skin around her eyes, then around her neck and chin, cocking her head at angles and considering the results. She was doing a thing with her mouth that she probably never does in real life, but which she probably imagines is her default condition.

(Mr. Vane says I have a mirror-face; I expect we all do. A thing we do with our features when we look in the mirror that creates the face we see in our mind but which no one else ever sees)

While she was doing this, the woman applying her color was oblivious. The stylist was really young, maybe 22, super thin, a shock of red trendy-messy hair. Way too much makeup for a face that young. Skinny jeans tucked into massive boots, a cling clang of bracelets rattling around. The whole time she applied the little foil envelopes of color she watched her own face in the mirror. Cocked her head different ways to watch how her hair fell. Narrowed her eyes and pursed lips just a tiny bit. Checked out her profile while coloring the bangs.

I watched this scene for about 2 minutes and it was all I could do not to dissolve into tears. I ended up getting bangs cut into my hair for the first time ever. They are already distracting me with the feeling of something being in my eyes.