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Emily Morrison

Emily Morrison

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Wednesday, 22 August 2012 22:45

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall...'

When I woke up this morning, I did what I always do the first moment my eyes meet daylight: I looked in the mirror. This isn't hard to do, since I happen to sleep in front of one. In fact, it has become a ritual. Wake, stretch, squint at my reflection. You may wonder what in particular I'm squinting at, and I'm not sure I can tell you.

Usually, I start with a good look at my bed head. Did I wake with ready-to-go hair? If I have left my locks in a pony the night before, I let it down and tousle it a bit. For someone with zero volume, curl or even wave, this is my best hope for achieving a Jennifer Anniston-like hot mess. Failing to achieve celebrity bed head, I turn to the side to assess the cow lick. I'm going to have to wet it down.

I lean in close for a quick scan of the crow's feet. Smile. Do I look older when I smile? Was that crease in my forehead there yesterday, or is it a line from the pillow? The furrow is only there when I'm concentrating on something, like a line in my forehead. Note to self: no smiling or furrowing of any kind just listless looking off into the distance from now on.

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