I don’t really look at myself in the mirror that often anymore.

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Did you know that you can do almost everything you need to do at the sink and not need to look up once?

You totally can.

If I catch a glimpse of my face, it’s quick and perfunctory. 

I don’t have wrinkles yet, except for some laugh and frown lines. My nose is the same as always, not too big nor too small. My lips are still full, my skin clear except for the occasional blemish. If I happen to smile, I have a dimple on the left side of my mouth.

I’m still the same average looking female that I’ve always been.

What bothers me the most, I think, are my eyes. I have my grandmothers dark brown eyes, which I’ve always been proud of. They are so dark that sometimes they almost appear black, especially when I am angry.

But my once bright brown eyes are now lackluster. They tell the truth, the tale of my chronic fibro life. They have absorbed my pain, depression, anxiety, loneliness, sadness and disappointment.

Perhaps it isn’t my face that I am avoiding. It’s these eyes of mine, that are unable to tell a joke to hide behind or fake a smile.

Thankfully, avoiding eye contact is one of my specialties.

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