I looked at my reflection in the microwave door and saw how flat I’ve become by evening

Dear Delyara, The kitchen light was behind me, the dinner was half done, somebody was asking me something from upstairs, the phone was buzzing on the table, and there in the dark glass I saw a face that looked like it had spent all day being appropriate for everybody else. It unsettled me. Because I think women often only catch the truth of themselves accidentally now. In dark windows, car mirrors, polished spoons, microwave doors. Not in the mirror when we’re ready, but in the reflection that finds us mid-function and tells the truth before we have time to arrange ourselves into something more acceptable.