A True Reflection: A House Full of Mirrors
I love mirrors. Most of my home is decorated with an eccentric array of mirrors that I’ve collected during my time in Denver. Each mirror serves a purpose, and sees a different version of myself.
In my room hangs an eight-foot-tall mirror that allows me to check my complete outfit before marching out the door each morning, and provides the perfect angles to examine how flat and unassuming my butt is.
My living room holds two of my mirrors. The long, white mirror that hangs in the entrance is used mostly as a hat rack and for final facial checks before leaving the house. Directly across from that mirror is a large, antique mirror that hangs high enough to only reflect my upper torso. This mirror is often ignored by my gaze.
My dining room also houses two mirrors—my two favorite mirrors. The large rectangle mirror that hangs above an ouija board and covers most of the exposed white wall on the east side of the house gets the best light in the morning. This is where I apply medicine to my psoriasis and examine the blemishes on my face.
The second mirror, a small circular mirror that hangs in the corner, is my most-used mirror for photos—and I take a lot of selfies.
In the kitchen, an oval mirror with a turquoise frame hangs above the stove. Not only does this mirror watch me cook (which rarely happens), but it gets to watch me chug milk, pace for hours, talk to my mom, and butcher beautiful songs as I smoke weed.
A medium-sized mirror hangs in my small hallway. There is no natural light, nor light fixture, in this hallway. This mirror is only used when the bathroom mirror is left useless thanks to hot showers. A few small polaroids line the edge of the mirror, acting as a surprise each time I glance in this often-overlooked decoration.
The bathroom mirror, which covers nearly a quarter of our wall space, sees me at my most vulnerable. The well-lit bathroom gives me the perfect opportunity to examine every part of my body. That’s what I do.
I stare, and occasionally pick, at my patches of dry skin that litter my torso, thighs, head, elbows, and neck. It watches me floss and overly-examine my crooked, discolored teeth. It watches me dig wax out of my ears. It’s there when I clip my toenails, trim my mustache, drunkenly pee in the sink, prepare for sex, lotion up, pop my pimples, paint my nails, and even pick my nose.
All of these mirrors still hang around every day, no matter what they see. I face them every day. And every day I feel better about the person staring back at me.
Photos by Jeremiah Corder
