Little Girl

As I admired my big lips in the mirror, glossy pink and mauve, an imaginary conversation with the MaryKay representative was going through my head.

You sure are lucky to have such nice lips. Do you use lip plumper or anything?

No, I’ve had large lips since I was…

My imaginary conversation suddenly grated to a halt as an image flashed into my head of me as a towheaded tyke, fine hair curling just to my chin.  And those same large lips, but not covered in makeup.  The tail end of my vain thoughts still lingering from the moment before contrasted sharply with the present picture of me, the little girl who wanted to remain innocent forever and never grow up.

Would that little girl ever have done this?

No, that little girl never admired herself for long hours in the mirror, wanting to be grown up and beautiful.  She never thought about lipstick or lipgloss or even pretty dresses; those all came later.  Her mind was wrapped up in the glittering world of color around her; no need for any of it to be on her face to enjoy it.

I thought of beautiful photographs of little girls looking at themselves in wonderment in a mirror, dreaming of being a woman, grown up and beautiful. I had always liked those photographs. In fact, I believe I transformed those photographs into my own personal history, even though I know it was never me.

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