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Repost Of The Mirror-Chapter One


msclundylvr

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Hey guys, at the urging of arpeejay, here are some installments of my story The Mirror from many years ago.  I hope you still enjoy them!  

 
 
The Mirror
 
By msclundylvr
 
It’s Saturday.  Although I was out at the bar with a couple of friends last night, I am awake automatically at 7:00 a.m.  Damned Circadian Rhythms!  What happened to the days when I could be up until 4:00 a.m. and sleep well into the afternoon with no problems whatsoever?  Oh well, I might as well get up and find something to do.
 
I head to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  On the way, I look in the mirror to see what configuration my hair got into during my slightly inebriated sleep.  My wavy brown hair that usually falls nicely just at the top of my ears is standing on end in the front and completely flat in the back—it must’ve been a rough night.
 
As I try to remember my dreams, I recall the nightmares that plagued my sleep.  Job failure, deaths of family members, fights with friends, and general dis-ease with life are regularly featured in the flicks shown on the backs of my eyelids.   
 
There are those who say that our dream lives are fairly accurate indicators about the things that fill our subconscious thoughts.  I would tend to agree with them.  My first job out of graduate school is nothing as I had hoped when I took it a year ago.  I am trapped in that place where I would love to move onto something new and exciting but can’t because I haven’t put in enough time at this job to have gained enough experience from it—according to those who read resumes regularly.  “Nobody likes a job-hopper.”  Well, nobody likes being confined in a bad situation either!
 
According to the Myers-Briggs people, I am a “polarized T.”  Meaning, although it is still first thing in the morning, although I’m somewhat hung-over, although I haven’t had any coffee, and although I am on the way to take my morning piss, I am already thinking and analyzing my reality as revealed through dreams.  Is this normal?  For me, it’s just par for the course.
 
I take care of my business in the bathroom and head to the kitchen to get the coffee pot brewing while I take my shower.  I take my t-shirt off on the way to the bathroom.  In the bathroom, I am greeted by a sobering reminder of how out of shape I am.  Damn.  Why did I have to get the genes to be the fat kid?  Thanks Mom and Dad…  I’ve had man-boobs for as long as I can remember.  
 
I’ve never been the athletic sort—well, not the sort to be out there sweating and grunting.  I was always the smart kid more interested learning about life through books and television than actually being out there experiencing life and grabbing it by the proverbial horns.  
 
Growing up in a small, midwestern town didn’t help this one bit.  The only options afforded to anyone were to be an athlete or a nobody.  I have the feeling that the fact that I’ve worn glasses since second grade did not help me to break out of my dorky nobody role.  
 
Though I was never the one to be outside playing basketball or tag or capture the flag, I was secretly jealous of those who were.  Why was it so easy for them to be lithe and athletic?  Why did they seem to have all of the fun?  As we got older, why were they the ones invited to all of the parties, the ones who got all of the girls?  Why were they endowed with pecs, bis, and abs that seemed to be on display constantly no matter what they wore?  Why did their muscles seem to grow with only minimal effort?  I know mine are under here somewhere, yet even the little bit of exercise I attempted, they never really showed through.  Damn genetics.
 
Okay, okay, enough self-deprecation.
 
I look at myself in the mirror again.  I hate the tiny mirror in the bathroom.  I can hardly see anything more than my face and shoulders—well, the man-boobs, but I pretend they aren’t there.  A friend of mine always makes me say some positive things about myself whenever I get down.  Maybe that’ll work.
 
Man, that coffee smells good.
 
Okay, back with a cup.  I look in the mirror again and remember that I never said the positives.  Here we go.  Though I have the fat gene—wait, no comparisons, only positives.  I like my 6’2” height.  I love my hair—when it behaves and doesn’t stand on end.  (My mane of hair has been compared to that of Patrick Dempsey.  I can see the resemblance, but without a professional hair person putting it back in place every two seconds like McDreamy, mine ends up looking more like Harry Potter at times.)  I have good eyes that flip between blue and green depending on what I’m wearing.  Okay, that’s the required three.  That’s enough.  
 
In the shower, I try to figure out what I want to do with my day.  Hang out?  Nah, the weather is too nice.  Lake?  Nah, everybody will be there on Saturday.  Let’s see…what’s something I can’t do on the normal day of the week?  I am sick of one of my walls being bare because I don’t have anything with which to cover it, so I decide to go check out some garage and estate sales in the area.
 
I dry off, shave, dress, brush the teeth, and the rest of the morning routine.  I put on the new cargo pants I bought a couple days ago—I wish this damned mirror wasn’t so small so I could see what they look like.  Or, maybe it’s better I can’t see.
 
At the first garage sale, I see a couple of old maps that would fit in poster frames and work well in my apartment (thanks for the tip Fab 5!)  I go to a couple of other sales and pick up some great stuff.  The back seat of my SUV is filling up with stuff and I’ve still spent only $30!  Why don’t I do this more often?  (Right, I live in a small, one bedroom apartment.  I have to remind myself there isn’t room for extra junk in there.)
 
I get my cell out of my pocket to check the time.  It’s 11:30.  I can get one more sale in before noon when most of the sales really start to dwindle or close.  There’s a huge estate sale at a veritable mansion only a mile away.  I probably can’t afford anything there, but why not.  
 
It is the sort of estate sale where you can wander through the house and look at the objects in their original environment.   I may never have the chance to wander through this Victorian mansion again, so I decide to take it in while I can. I wander through the various sitting rooms and parlors.  Everything is pretty picked through by this time of day, but still it is nice to see the hand-carved woodworking, amazing plaster molding, elaborate chandeliers, and other architectural features.  The other people milling around are obviously snooty collectors looking for a bargain on antiques.
 
The woman running the sale introduces herself and tells me that the sale will be officially ending soon, but since I’m already inside and appear to be enjoying the ambiance, she says I can take my time since she has to stick around for awhile to close up the books.   I finish the first floor and go through the second.  At the end of the upstairs hall, I notice a back staircase leading up to what must have been the servant’s quarters back in the day.
 
I reach the top of the stairs where I am standing in a large, wood-paneled room.  There are a few boxes scattered around.  It is very dusty.  This space must have been used as attic storage space once society shifted to the place where servants no longer served their employers 24-7.  
 
Something at the other end of the room catches my eye.  I walk over to the sheet-covered object and begin my investigation.  It stands about six inches taller than me.  I try to peek under the sheet but can’t tell what kind of furniture it is.  It has beautifully carved feet.  I look around to make sure I am still alone.  I don’t hear anybody else either, so I pull the sheet off.  
 
Under the sheet is a stunning full-body mirror.  It is stunning and though the glass is original, the silver backing is still in great condition except for about half an inch around the sides.  The tarnished border gives it a mysterious, dreamy quality.  
 
I look at myself head to toe in the mirror.  I haven’t seen the full view of myself for a while.  Now I’m really jealous of the athletic guys growing up.  Man boobs, a flat tire around my belly.  Big thighs and ass…   I’m 26!  I’m supposed to be in my prime.  What does this say for my future???
 
Okay, think positively.  Height?  Good.  Hair?  More Patrick than Harry—good.  Eyes?  Looking green today against the blue polo I have on.   Same statements I used this morning, but feeling better about things.
 
Maybe I should try yet another diet and exercise program.  I mean, even if I could lose 10 pounds, it’d be a start.  I look in the mirror and think, “I wonder what I’d look like if I were 10 lbs. lighter.”  
 
As soon as I said that, it looked like the image in the mirror shifted a little without me moving.  I stuck my finger out to examine the glass to see if it was settling due to age, as often happens with old glass.
 
Just then, I hear footsteps on the stairs. I hear the voice of the woman in charge of the sale.
 
“Hello? Hello?  Anyone up there?”
 
Just then, she appeared at the top of the stairs.
 
“Uhhh…hi.  I was just exploring and ran across this wonderful mirror.”
 
“Oh, that old thing?  We can’t find any information about it in the estate records.  We have no idea when it was purchased or who made it.  We’ve had appraisers here to look at it and they think it must be some local yokel who made it at some point.  The mirror silvering isn’t very good anymore.”  We were just going to throw it out.”
 
“What!  It’s great!  How much do you want for it?  I can’t pay much, but I’d like to take it.”
 
“Oh, just take it.  No charge.  Like I said, we were going to throw the worthless thing out.”
 
“Thanks!  I have just the place for it.”
 
“Let me see if I can find someone to help you carry it to your car.”
 
I turn to the mirror and look at my new cargo pants.  Damned things are apparently stretching.  They fit just fine in the store, but now they’re sitting a little low on my waist.  I knew I should’ve put a belt on before I left.  
 
I grab the sheet and put it back over the mirror for the journey out to my car.  
 
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Pretty good! The descriptions are excellent! I read most of it but now that I read the whole chapter, I'm hooked on the story!

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