In the Mirror

There are days when my reflected self
Both disappoints and shocks.
My expectations differ
From reality, which mocks.

That fresh-faced girl they once called “cute”
Can’t claim that anymore;
And wrinkle creams a smooth complexion
Never will restore.

Yet other days I check the glass
And feel quite satisfied.
I think I’m looking pretty good,
The years tucked back inside.

I wonder then if others
See such varying displays,
Not knowing which self will appear
Within that mirrored gaze.

Perhaps some beauties always see
Perfection looking back;
While others focus on the flaws,
Bemoaning what they lack.

And maybe it’s a female trait,
This back and forth that vexes.
It seems to me a problem
That could bother both the sexes.

Regardless, it’s an awful thing
When you don’t have a clue
‘Til you look into the mirror
Who’ll be looking back at you.

And if your Mr. Hyde is there,
You’re stuck with him today.
Just pray that when tomorrow comes,
That face has gone away.