Learning To Love The Stranger in the Mirror



"One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it:.."

This is the opening line in the famous children's book Through The Looking Glass (more commonly known as Alice In Wonderland) by Lewis Carroll.

I just loved Alice when I was a kid. 

She was so spunky. 

Oh, what I wouldn't have done to take a trip like that: an innocent afternoon walk in the woods provides the opportunity for an invitation to a magical party, and then 'Oops' you trip through a looking glass and downdown you go, only to find yourself in the company of a bunch of manic, disingenuous rabbits, a peyote smoking Caterpillar, a menopausal Red Queen and her emasculated King of a husband, a Dodo, with illusions of grandeur, and that crazy grinning unflappable Cat. 

What a nutty bunch!

What a crazy kid!

It was of no concern to me that the whole lot of them conspired to trap Alice within her own childhood, never allowing her to leave (or grow-up), even if it meant her death.

Oh no. Never crossed my mind. 

Another of my favorite stories was Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Grey

Gorgeous Dorian has his portrait painted by a fledgling artist. 

It is shown at a Salon and becomes a sensation- including, creating sensations 'we dare not speak of' in the pants of a decadent dandy, Lord Wotton. 

Lord Wotton approaches vain Dorian and the two proceed to live a life of hedonism- but not before handsome Dorian makes a pact with the devil: his sins will be transferred to the portrait instead of his body.

By tales-end only Dorian's suicide will release him from his moral battle, and the portrait reverts back into the beautiful young Dorian. 

Housekeepers find him with a knife in his chest, wizened and deformed, as the portrait looks down on the scene, as untouched as the day it was painted.

Happy Days! Aaaaaghhh

So it should have come as no surprise to me that the other day, as I was walking through the house, I gazed into our front parlor mirror and wondered who the hell was staring back.

"Who the Hell are you, strange wizened woman?"

Maybe Dorian was on to something, or I should call the Caterpillar, because a combination of my father and the old gal who lives under I-10 was looking back at me. (Then again, I heard she and Dorian travelled down the rabbit hole together, and it was quite a party).  


So after much contemplation, I think I'll stay Earth bound, never follow a rabbit, always blame the white kitten, and just learn to love the old gal trapped in my Looking Glass.

Making a pact with the devil...

shall remain optional.



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