Upon getting out of bed this morning I passed by our bedroom mirror. I paused for a moment to get a better look. To be blunt, I looked like crap.

I don’t mean I looked sickly – nor any more disheveled than one generally looks upon rising in the morning after a good night’s sleep. I mean old. Like really old.

To be clear, I felt great. No aches, pains nor stiffness – i.e., the plagues of age often associated with getting one’s day started. That’s noteworthy, as I used to feel ragged in the mornings. But in recent years, au contraire!

(Brief digression: since cutting out pesky carbs 5 years ago, I now feel better than I did in my 30s, when I was younger than half my current calendar age).

But man, I sure looked old. Wrinkled, sunken eyes, sagging face.

That’s likely due to the fact that I’ve now got more spare skin than needed – being at a healthier weight now, notable for guy who wasn’t overly plump to begin with. So, harboring extra skin in reserve in the face of gravity that all of our faces face over time, the combination seems to have done the trick.

But I must hasten to add that looking old is far preferable to feeling old. I’ll take this trade any day (and every day, for that matter).

Still, I admit that passing by that mirror managed to put a kabash on the morning’s mood. And this helps illustrate the curse of the mirror.

Mirrors urge us to see ourselves as others see us – rather than how we might otherwise see ourselves. They provide an inherently backwards view of ourselves and the world around us and, by extension, our place in it.

Even the most perfectly crafted mirrors still distort reality to some degree. The reflection we cast cannot be who we actually are.

That birthmark on our left cheek is not on the right, nor is the way we part our hair actually on the side featured in our reflection. Space is exaggerated; it is not the case that everything seen in a mirror is twice as far away as it appears. And if mirrors show space incorrectly, what about time?

The thought occurred to me that perhaps I’ve got my causes and effects confused. Maybe the reason that vampires don’t age is that they cast no reflection. Could it be our reflections that bring on our eventual demise?

After all, Narcissus was destroyed by his own reflection. His beautiful image as seen in the water robbed his life of joy and happiness. And in the Jewish tradition, during the seven days of mourning for a lost loved one, the mirrors in the home are covered to avoid looking at oneself even for a moment.

And so, yes, perhaps on several levels there are dangers in looking at one’s own reflection – many of which were understood and respected by civilizations that thrived millennia ago.

I shall try to remember all of this tomorrow morning when I sprint out of bed looking forward to another glorious day… paying no attention to that man in the mirror as I joyfully whisk by.