Reflections in A Three-Way Mirror: An Encounter with Self-Discovery

“Who is that man in the mirror?” I thought to myself. “It couldn’t be me, could it?”

I was standing in the dressing room of the Lululemon store in Northbrook Court. The shopping mall was its usual semi-deserted self, though I suspect a crowd was forming at the Apple Store to play with Vision-Pro, Apple’s new virtual reality gizmo.

Barb had suggested I go to Lululemon to pick out some comfortable slacks for our upcoming long airplane voyage. I asked her to meet me there, knowing she was much more stylish than me and would be a valuable asset. We selected several styles of lightweight gray and black pants. I headed back to the dressing rooms to try them on while Barb continued to search the shelves.

On my way to the back of the store. I was intercepted by one of the store sales associates who directed me to one of the small try-on cubicles. I gave her my name and she wrote it on a whiteboard on the changing room door. I thought this was a nice touch; they don’t do that at the men’s store I shop at. I was particularly impressed that she spelled my name correctly.

Once in the booth, I dropped my jeans to the floor and began trying on the various pairs of slacks. The first was too large, the second too small, but yes, the third did feel just right.

And that is when I discovered that I am no Goldilocks. A full-length three-way mirror took up one corner of the cubicle. I’m sure the main purpose of the mirror is to allow women of all sizes and shapes to see their butts as they try on skin-tight leggings, but I wasn’t looking at my tush in the mirror, no matter how shapely it might be. No, I was staring a little higher…at the back of my head to be precise. And instead of the thinning whitish-gray hair I expected to see, all that greeted my gaze was an unfettered glistening scalp.

I am not naïve or overly vain. I suspected that at age 68 I have a bit of a bald spot. My dad had one at this age too. But what I didn’t expect to see was a clearing the size of a pair of mating tarantulas. I was stunned.

This explains so much. Why the grandkids rub my head for luck. Why the top of my scalp is always cold. Why Tina, my hairstylist for the last 30 years, schedules shorter and shorter appointments for me.

I left Lululemon with a new understanding of myself. I now know it is time to start putting sunblock on my dome as part of my daily routine. My African safari hat is going to get a lot more use. And maybe I’ll start checking out those hair growth ads that keep popping up in my Facebook feed.

But I think I’ll keep away from three-way mirrors for a while. Wouldn’t you?

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