With a terrible day three behind me, I had to guarantee that day four would be better. No more slacking-off and thinking I could get away with it. I had to put forth some real energy. So I set my alarm for an hour earlier than usual, laid out some outfit options on my couch, scrounged around under my bathroom sink to find some volumizing mousse used for a Halloween hair-do two years ago, and started getting ready, sans mirror.
The extra time was a life saver. I was able to relax, sip some grapefruit juice and play around with different looks. It reminded me of dressing a Barbie for a day at the office; just a really giant, brunette Barbie with a hatred for everything pastel. I decided on beige shoes, dark jeans, a patterned camisole, black blazer, and silver jewelry-- all I needed was a Corvette to take me to work. And a dream house. And a Hot Tub Party Bus Vehicle complete with a refrigerator, microwave oven, built-in sink, and pull-down dinette table. And measurements of 36-18-33. But I digress.
Day four was the best so far-- I put in the time and energy and it paid off. I wasn't worried about my appearance during the day; I felt confident that I looked presentable, stylish and that my underwear was sufficiently hidden. This was the first day that I really didn't miss the mirror but... wait. OK, let me rephrase that. I missed the mirror, I wanted to check myself out, but I didn't feel like I had to, or that I would be surprised by what I saw. I knew I looked OK, if not a tiny bit better than OK, and if my fly was down, someone would tell me.
I'm starting to get used the blindness, but I wouldn't say that I've completely adapted. My last day without a mirror is tomorrow and in sick and twisted timing, it's also my birthday. The temptation will be high-- who wouldn't want to do some pre-party primping? I'll just have to take what I've learned from today and make sure I've got time in the morning to make deliberate choices for looking my best. Onward!
