Mirror, Mirror Off the Wall

by Kjerstin Gruys

  This would have to change if I planned to survive my year without mirrors while still recognizing myself at heart (if not by reflection!). Having just experienced the thrill of the hunt, I couldn’t fathom a year without mirrors and without shopping!

  • • •

  THIS QUESTION OF MY TRUSTING-NESS NAGGED AT ME. I cringed to think of myself as just one more example of a woman who didn’t trust other women, but it seemed like it might be true. I knew I wasn’t alone in this, but it gave me little comfort. Our culture is full of stories and myths warning women to not trust one another, telling us that we are in competition with one another, both for men and for prestige, and that we can count only on ourselves. We see this in the fairy tales told to us in our youths, in which we learn from Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and the Little Mermaid that only the most beautiful girl will ever marry the prince, and that older or plainer women (usually aging queens, sorceresses, and witches) are threatened by younger and prettier women’s youth and beauty. As author Peggy Orenstein argues in her book Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, the Disney Princesses do little to encourage girls to seek support from female friends: “There is only one princess in the Disney tales, one girl who gets to be exalted. Princesses may confide in a sympathetic mouse or teacup, but . . . they do not have girlfriends. God forbid Snow White should give Sleeping Beauty a little support.”

  I was well aware of these cultural tropes, but I’d thought myself above them. I valued collectivity and cooperation over competition. I’d believed myself to be immune to such unnecessary nastiness, by refusing to make catty remarks about other women (at least out loud!) and by actively embracing and celebrating the variety of talents and gifts that my female friends, colleagues, and relatives brought to the world. I was a feminist. I was enlightened. I wasn’t a bully. All good, right? But apparently, when forced to do so, I didn’t trust other women to live up to their end of the bargain.

  Psychological research suggests that I am not alone in my tendency toward mistrust. On average, people have been shown to be quite cynical about the trustworthiness of others. But is this cynicism justified? Studies suggest not. Rather, most of us have what researchers describe as naive cynicism, that is, cynicism that is misguided.

  In one experiment where psychologists had people play financial games in lab settings, the subjects honored the trust placed in them between 80 and 90 percent of the time, but estimated that others would honor their trust only about 50 percent of the time. Other research has shown that, when asked to think about strangers, people tend to believe that other people are more selfishly motivated than they really are, and less helpful than they really are. In a series of studies out of Columbia University, researchers tested people’s estimation of how likely others were to help them out. The researchers had participants ask others to fill in questionnaires, to borrow cell phones, and to escort them to the gym. Across these conditions, participants underestimated how likely others were to help them by as much as 100 percent. Similarly, in another study, researchers asked participants to predict what would happen if they gave money to a stranger who then had the option to either split the cash with them or keep it. The givers thought the receivers would share the money around 45 percent of the time, but the actual number was nearly 80 percent of the time. This cynicism toward strangers has been shown to develop as early as seven years of age, and these patterns are not limited to our views of strangers; we are also overly cynical about our loved ones and teammates, assuming that they will behave more selfishly than they actually do.

  Thus, there exists a mysterious trust gap between how people behave themselves and how they think others behave. One explanation for the trust gap is found in our egocentric biases: We find it difficult to understand what others are thinking and feeling because we are stuck inside of our own heads. Another explanation rests in the idea that our cynicism results from our experiences or, rather, from our lack of experiences. As explained in a Psych Central article on the trust gap, “The first time you trust a stranger and are betrayed, it makes sense to avoid trusting other strangers in the future. The problem is that when we don’t ever trust strangers, we never find out how trustworthy people in general really are. As a result, our estimation of them is governed by fear. . . . It is lack of experience that leads to people’s cynicism, specifically not enough positive experiences of trusting strangers.”

  By this logic, refusing to trust people and not giving people the chance to earn my trust had likely created a self-fulfilling prophecy. The only way to break the pattern would be to force myself to put trust in other people, even if it scared me. As promised by Psych Central, “If you try trusting others you’ll find they frequently repay that trust, leading you to be more trusting.” Or, as I’d written in my Top Ten Ways to Be Kjerstin list, I needed to challenge my assumptions.

  I knew I’d never survive the next nine months without mirrors if I didn’t take a leap of faith; it was time to practice trust.

  As a baby step, I called Hanna and mentioned that I wanted to hang out soon. I was still horribly nervous about letting her decide which shirts to keep and which to return. Hanna and I have pretty different styles, and we weren’t always good at picking out clothes for each other (I was always pushing her to ditch the yoga pants and sneakers to be more trendy, and she was always pushing me to be less brand-obsessed). Still, I knew in my heart that Hanna loved me and wanted only the best for me. Our tastes might be different, but she wasn’t cruel or catty. If I couldn’t learn to trust my own sister for advice, well, that probably said more about me than her.

  • • •

  WHEN MICHAEL GOT HOME LATER THAT EVENING, I HAD much to talk to him about. Shopping for clothes that morning had done more than just alert me to my trust issues; it had also reminded me of how much I loved and enjoyed clothes, fashion, and beauty stuff in general.

  “Look, I don’t want to be obsessive and insecure about my looks, or spend too much time and money and energy on my appearance, but I miss the creativity that comes along with fashion and beauty!” I exclaimed. “Can I take a step back from vanity without losing creativity and pleasure?”

  “Do you think you could give up mirrors and fashion for the year?” Michael asked. I’d actually successfully sworn off shopping for a year a few years back, when our long-distance relationship had strained my budget to the max.

  I thought for a minute, and said, “Yes, I think I could. But I don’t want to. I’m trying to learn more about myself this year, and I learned something important today. I love the creativity and sensual experiences of fashion and I’ve missed experimenting with different looks. This project isn’t supposed to be about denying myself pleasure, but about rejecting insecurities and obsessions.” My cultural sociologist side took a turn at the lectern, saying, “Even if the fashion and cosmetic industries do make money by preying on women’s insecurities, clothes and makeup aren’t inherently evil themselves. Dress and body modification are found in every culture on the planet; all humans use these things for self-expression!”

  “Whoa there, tiger!” Michael interrupted. “Where’s the lecture hall? Look, I’m not asking you to defend your passions. I just want to make sure you don’t spend all of our money or end up feeling miserable because your priorities are all out of whack. What, exactly, are you hoping to do?”

  I was ready with an answer: I wanted to follow TheKnot.com’s “Bridal Beauty: Countdown to Gorgeous” list for brides, but without looking in the mirror.

  FYI, TheKnot.com is the biggest wedding-planning website in existence, and they published a countdown list as a “guide to looking fabulous by your big day.” It details thirty-seven beautifying tasks that a bride should complete in the six months leading up to her wedding day.

  At face value, the BBCTG list didn’t seem easily compatible with the spirit of my no-mirrors project. Indeed, the very last of the
thirty-seven tasks—to be completed moments before walking down the aisle—commanded the unthinkable: “Take a few moments to reflect on the meaning of the day before giving yourself one last once-over in the mirror.” But my excitement wasn’t just because the list involved a lot of girlie beauty stuff; it also had all of the makings of a great investigative project. How ridiculous could a bridal to-do list get? How expensive? How time-consuming? How presumptuous? How elitist? How gendered? How heteronormative?

  The list was extensive and ambitious, almost to the point of hilarity. The numbered tasks ranged from simple (#20: “Drink lots of water”) to much more involved (#7: “If you don’t plan on using your regular hairdresser, make consultation appointments with potential candidates. Bring along pictures of hairstyles you like, even a picture of your veil and headpiece. If you want to wear your hair in an updo, discuss with the hairdresser how long it will take to grow out your hair so it’s the right length for your desired look”). To be honest, almost half of the stuff on the list seemed silly to me, but that was part of the allure; as much as I looked forward to indulging in a manicure (#33) or reclining in “a long, relaxing bath” (#34), I also couldn’t wait to snarkily report back to my bloggers on the delights of exfoliation (as TheKnot.com explained in #19, “Soft and silky elbows, hands, and feet are marriage musts!” Oh, please).

  The BBCTG list had immediately reminded me of my favorite passage in Rebecca Mead’s book One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding:

  What the bridal magazines promote . . . is the idea that a bride deserves to be the center of attention for the entire period of her engagement. . . . She deserves to be the center of her own attention, at least. . . . It is her privilege, her right—indeed, her obligation—to become preoccupied with herself, her appearance, her tastes, and her ability to showcase them to their best advantage. Being a bride, according to the bridal media’s prescription, amounts to a quest for self-perfection, or perfection of the outward self at least.

  These things seemed true of all the bridal magazines I’d been reading. How likely was it that anyone could actually follow all of their advice? But would tackling this vanity-based-project-within-a-vanity-rejecting-project make me a hypocrite?

  I was a feminist bride-to-be equipped with the insider knowledge that TheKnot.com’s list—and all others like it—encouraged vanity and self-absorption (and, of course, the spending of mucho money). These were all things I wanted desperately to decrease in my life. Yet I was still a bride-to-be. I was still a romantic. I was still the little girl who looked at my parents’ wedding photos and wondered, hopefully, if I would look as beautiful on my wedding day as my mother did on hers. How could I merge these seemingly conflicting desires? How could I stay true to my values without becoming an ascetic martyr for my no-mirrors cause?

  I said all of these things to Michael, who listened patiently. When I’d finally finished talking, he asked me one question: “Would this be fun for you?”

  “Yes,” I answered. I saw this list of bizarre beauty routines as the perfect way to more fully test my commitment to the project while also delving into the sociologically fascinating world of bride-dom. Even more important, I saw this challenge as a way to learn more about myself and who I wanted to be. I already suspected that I would find my most authentic self somewhere between all-out indulgent vanity and stringent self-denial. But I didn’t know exactly where, between these two extremes, I would end up. What balance of behaviors would make me feel happiest, and the most like myself, while still honoring my values? I needed to keep swinging the pendulum back and forth for a little while, taking note of when things felt right and when things felt wrong.

  “Then do it,” he said. “Have some fun. Pay attention if something doesn’t feel right to you, but don’t overthink it.”

  He was right, and I was relieved by his support. I needed to follow my gut, with thoughtful determination, un-reckless abandon, creativity, and humor. Despite my decision to shun mirrors—and I was still fully committed to this decision, task #37 be damned!—I had no desire for an ascetic life.

  I also hoped that this challenge-within-a-challenge would give me a better understanding of how to achieve balance and authenticity. Did having these things mean finding that one consistent “way to be”? Or would it involve a lifetime of shifting back and forth between different—but equally authentic—versions of myself (and if so, how many versions might there be?)? It was time to find out.

  • • •

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, AFTER A MORNING OF GRADING, I TOOK a few minutes to skim over the full BBCTG list. It organized the beautifying tasks into a time line highlighting when they should be accomplished: “5–6 Months Before,” “3–4 Months Before,” “1–2 Months Before,” “2 Weeks Before,” “1 Week Before,” “1 Day Before,” and “On Your Wedding Day.” According to TheKnot.com, I was already two months behind! To give myself a fighting chance to finish, I decided to try tackling all of the items on the “5–6 Months Before” list in one week, six tasks in all. These first six tasks targeted the following, in order: (1) stress relief, (2) wedding hair planning, (3) skin care, (4) nutrition, (5) exercise, and (6) weight loss. If I could manage that, I’d be caught up for the remaining items on the list.

  As I read through this list, I felt confident that I’d manage to complete all within the week, but felt a pang of anxiety as I read over items 4 and 6, which focused on nutrition and weight loss, respectively. Nutrition and diet advice didn’t always go over so well in post-anorexia Kjerstin-land. It was complicated, so I decided to deal with those things last, once I figured out how. The second task on the list would also be tricky; I had no idea what I wanted to do with my hair for the wedding, and I also didn’t yet have a stylist in my new hometown of San Francisco with whom to “start experimenting.”

  This left items 1, 3, and 5 as the easiest places to begin. Accomplishing task 3 would be a cinch because I was already pretty fastidious when it came to skin care. This had been the case since around 1992, when my face hit puberty. Seemingly overnight, I’d gone from a peaches-and-cream complexion to something more closely resembling DiGiorno. Then it turned out that my mildly spotty adolescent years were only a warm-up for an inexplicable case of full-blown adult acne in my early twenties. Even though I now have “good” skin (thanks to two rounds of Accutane), to this day I always wash my face as the final step before exiting the shower—even if this means washing it twice—lest my hair conditioner pollute my pores.

  Abandoning mirrors had thrown me off my game. Without being able to see my face in the mirror, the only way I could assess the state of my skin was through touch, and this presented a problem: I knew that touching my face too often could actually cause breakouts. If I wasn’t careful, I’d create a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  In the midst of all this worrying, I started to wonder: Why do we care so much about having “perfect” skin in the first place? These days we know that acne isn’t caused by supposedly immoral behaviors, like eating a lot of chocolate or masturbating (or eating chocolate while masturbating, for that matter!). Having acne isn’t a sign that you’re a bad person, or even that you’re dirty (indeed, no amount of cleansing will ever cure acne, and washing too frequently can just aggravate things). So why all the hype about zits?

  Thanks to grad school, I was used to critically analyzing our culture, questioning beliefs, habits, and customs that we often take for granted as natural. We sociologists call this “making the familiar strange.” And here’s what I learned about zits: Our culture’s modern obsession with blemish-free skin emerged as a result of increased access to . . . (drumroll, please!) . . . MIRRORS! Yes, mirrors. How perfect is that?

  In her book The Body Project: An Intimate History of American Girls, Joan Jacobs Brumberg writes:

  When the mirror became a staple of the American middle-class home at the end of the nineteenth century, attention to adolescent acne escalated, as did sales of
products for the face. Until then, pimples were primarily a tactile experience, at least for the girl who had them. But all that changed in the late 1880s with the widespread adoption in middle-class homes of a bathroom sink with running water and a mirror hung above it. . . . Mirrors made pimples accessible, but they also stimulated greater concern about the face.

  There you have it: MIRRORS CAUSE ACNE! Okay, okay, maybe not directly. But they’ve certainly contributed to our culture’s obsession with clear skin. Indeed, Brumberg goes on to mention that, by the 1890s, “anxiety about blemishes on the face” actually led to the popularity of hairstyles with bangs among adolescent girls. (And I’d always thought I was the sneaky genius who figured that one out!)

  Knowing all this, I’d love to say that life without mirrors drastically decreased my concern with having clear skin, but instead, it was probably more of the opposite: Having dependably clear skin had made me more willing to banish mirrors from my life. That said, self-fulfilling pimple prophecies didn’t sound so fun. Going to see a dermatologist didn’t seem necessary, and monthly facials were way out of my budget, but I could certainly commit to maintaining my current routine. As I crossed off task #3 from my BBCTG list, I also made a promise to myself that I would try my best to follow something I called Slow-Cooker Mode (i.e., “Fix it and forget it”) by not touching my face during the day.

  • • •

  MY NEXT ADVENTURE IN BRIDAL BEAUTIFYING WAS TO TACKLE item #5, which commanded, “If you don’t already, start exercising. A few sessions with a trainer may help to jump-start your routine. Try practicing yoga; the postures build strength and are great tension relievers as well. You’ll look great, feel better, and be less stressed out.”