I, Shadow

Good morning. Did you sleep well?

No?

I didn’t think so. Those purple eye socket smudges appear to be more pronounced than usual. Well, we can fix that.

Go back to bed? No, dear, there isn’t time for more sleep. YOU wanted to go to the pre-service Sunday School, remember? But we do have Under Eye Corrector, specially formulated for days like today. Might I suggest smearing it on a bit more liberally than usual?

Yes. Much better. Now: foundation. Your shower was too hot again, that Irish skin is all rough and red. Nobody wants to meet you looking like that. Ah, perhaps a bit more on the nose? And you missed a spot on your chin... Yes. Good.

Pucker up for the Definer, right along your jawline. Otherwise, you’ll look like Shirley Temple with that haircut and round face. And blush, just a smidgen now, your true colors are already shining through the foundation. Highlighter: forehead, tip of the nose, point of the chin. No, your chin doesn’t have a point, just pretend. Not so much! There. Good.

What shades of eye shadow are we feeling today? Emerald green? My, aren’t we daring. It will look nice with that shirt, though. Go easy, dear, this is church, even if it’s progressive. Blend the green and grey, nice upward strokes. If eyes are where the soul peeks through you want to hood them well for church, but don’t be obvious about it. Just a touch of eyeliner now, we’re not actually going into battle, no badass Madonnas, please. And mascara. Yes, you hate it, but you need it. Careful! Clumpy mascara is worse than none at all. Cotton swabs! Quick! Go easy that will smear…no! use your fingers for the upper lashes, remember the time you got that cotton fiber stuck in your eye during church? There. Not bad. Let’s have a look at you now.

That’s a carefully crafted look, no wonder you didn’t get much sleep. (Come on, we both know this sort of thing is much easier for your seven-year-old than for you). Casual enough to show you don’t really care about dressing up for church. Comfortable shirt is just sexy enough to be the left side of modest, and shows off your tattoo for the rebel flair. Plaid over-shirt tied up in front because you still feel young enough to try for cool, even if you have no idea what you’re actually doing. Scrunch up those curls a bit, add a necklace…you won’t disgrace us. Now, if you would only remember to hold in that stomach, high-waisted jeans only do so much…

Shoulders falling I turn away from the mirror. We need to leave in half an hour and the girls need breakfast and their hair brushed. I’ve wasted enough time being insecure. The necklace though, that’s important. It’s in the bottom of my jewelry bag, and I have to untangle it once I dig it out. Like my makeup-armor, I almost always wear this to church. It is a gold tree pendant my sister gave me, on three strands of black hemp cord studded with bronze colored glass beads. I made this necklace, and it’s my favorite. The tree is my only faith symbol: alive and vibrant like this one appears to be, branches above and roots below, not killed and twisted into an instrument of torture and death. I fasten the pendant around my neck and press it’s familiar shape into my skin. Now I am ready to look back in the mirror, not at my face or body, but into my eyes.