Mirror mirror on the wall

"You look in the mirror" writes sociologist and psychotherapist Lillian Rubin in "60 On Up: The Truth About Aging in America" (Beacon) and you think, "that can't be me." Boy do I ever know that feeling. I avoid the mirror like an enemy combatant. Waking up every morning means that fateful "dead woman walking" trip to the bathroom. I see myself in the mirror and actually wonder who's looking back. It's like a surprise party. Surprise you have frown lines between your eyebrows, it's time for Botox! Surprise your gray roots are showing! Surprise your lips are disappearing ! Surprise your naso labial folds are as deep as the Grand Canyon! Surprise the 30 year old you is gone. Surprise it's the 57 year old version! Ms. Rubin's right , this can't be me, BUT IT IS.

My mother fought the aging process tooth and nail and still does at 89. She's General MacArthur, Curtis LeMay, and Robert MacNamara, when it comes to the war against aging. I watched her at the front line... at the make-up counters of Saks, Bloomingdales, Lord and Taylor and Bonwit Teller . Estee Lauder, Channel, and Lancome sold promises of youth and she bought them. I can still sniff out Estee Lauder products at 100 feet. I thought she was crazy, who needed all that crap? Who needed to spend that much time on skin care? Who wanted red lips, nails, and even toes? Yuck. I was the natural type, no make-up for this gal. A hairdryer was my fountain of youth. I looked in the mirror fluffed up the hair a little and thought I was the fairest of them all. So long mom and your smelly skin cream.

Fast forward 30 years and her products have practically taken on religious significance to me. Ok, I'm vain, shallow, or crazy but I'm a convert. I've taken on the mirror just like mom. Now rouge isn't just a word I learned in high school French it's a life affirming coloring agent. Lipstick used to be a marker I used when there wasn't a pen around , now it's a magic wand that makes my mouth reappear. I have scrubs, masks, lotions, and potions so I don't seem moments from death. Do I look more like me now, or what I remember as me? Sorta. But I feel defiant and that is me.