Through the Looking Glass

Twenty years ago, my husband told me I was pretty for the first time. He's insisted on it, almost everyday since. At first, I thought he was just being a good husband. Then for a while I thought he meant pretty inside or pretty because I love you. He does love me and he's biased, obviously. I'm coming to think he really means it. He's not an idiot, I swear. And other than an unfortunate affection towards hawaiian shirts, he has good taste.

Normally, I go out of my way to avoid mirrors. But lately, as I'm brushing my teeth, I'm looking. At first it was just quick glances and then back to my teeth. Gradually, I've been meeting my gaze more and more. Last night I was outright staring. And I hesitantly have come to the conclusion that I have some pretty pieces. Like, my ears. Not a major feature, not even on the face. But they're cute little things. Nicely curved. And my nose isn't offensive, it's pretty ordinary. I can see how someone who loves me would think that's pretty. My eyes are getting paler as I age, but they're still nice. And they go with my hair and skin really well.

Maybe he's not an idiot.