The mum in the mirror

Dear Single Mama,

Are you pretty? Are you clean? Are your nails and hair done? When you look in the mirror do you see you?

I don’t know who is in my mirror, but it’s not me. Whoever she is, she looks tired. Her hair is always back in a bun. She thinks it hides how unkempt she is, but it doesn’t. She wears black because she thinks it hides how much weight she has put on, but it doesn’t. She fantasizes about all the nice things she will wear one day once she’s worked on herself, but she won’t.

I don’t know who she is, but she isn’t me.

Do you have a style? Something other than “mum”?

When I look at the woman in the mirror, I wonder whether there is a person somewhere in there. Under the stained T‑shirt, comfortable leggings, and bags under her eyes? Did she used to be an individual? Did she used to be fun? Was she young once? Did she used to be pretty?

Sometimes I dress up when the occasion calls for it, but I feel like a fake. I am just pretending to be someone who dresses up. I don’t expect too much from myself. I won’t try too hard. I will be presentable and clean, but I won’t aim for pretty. I will raise my kids and go to work, and that will be enough. I don’t have to be pretty doing it. I can do all that in black, comfortable clothing. Just like the girl in the mirror who dresses to be invisible. I wonder whether she will ever look like me again. Not just pretend, but for real.

Does the person in your mirror look like you? What does that feel like? I keep looking in my mirror, Mama, but I’m just not there.