Once upon a time,
my skin was skin,
splendid,
as long as I kept it clean.

Now I’m told
by the TV, internet, and magazines,
my skin
needs plumping,
brightening,
smoothing,
anti-wrinkle cream.

The mirror
used to show my reflection –
it served a purpose
like a toothbrush
used to maintain oral hygiene.

Now a mirror reflects
not just my visage
but judgement;
flaws
that need fixing.

Now I’m the clingy lover,
insecure, as I hover
two inches from the glass surface
that is less fragile
than my self-esteem sometimes.