Objects In the Mirror

A continuation of my frustrating search to find jeans that fit me, I, once again,
     subjected myself to heart-ache and torture
by stepping foot inside one of those claustrophobic "chambers"
with the four walls and talking mirrors.
 
Much like the warnings on side view mirrors of cars, there ought to be a message above the
dressing room door that reads:

Objects in the mirror appear larger than they really are. 

I remember the first time I experienced a "talking" mirror.

It was the first time I experienced getting a facial.

The Esthetician made me hold up this horribly thick piece of magnified glass
     that showed me all of the wrinkles and sun damage and pimples
and black heads and white heads ( and red heads and bed heads and dead heads )  . . .


     I never went back there again.

And, the place ended up going out of business,
so maybe I was not the only one who ran away
     HORRIFIED.    

I just think there are certain things that should be left unseen.

No one should have to look at themselves THAT CLOSELY. 

Unfortunately, until I find the right jeans,
I am going to have to continue to re-visit the horrible fitting room chamber with the talking mirrors.   

I just have to prepare myself, as I always do -

     close my eyes, hold my breath, hope for the best . . .  

And, when I open my eyes, if I don't like what I see,
     I remember a phrase from childhood :

         Sticks and stones can break my bones,
                         but words ( from talking mirrors ) can never hurt me.

And, then I go home and order yet another pair of jeans online.