Mirrors have become a novelty in this lifestyle and I have now had the opportunity to gaze upon my reflection THREE times since yesterday morning. This owing to the newly discovered toilets in the small strip mall by the supermarket. We’ve happily changed our bathroom loyalties from the stalls at the park, effective immediately. Still no paper towels in either, but our new potties can boast soap (FEELIN’ FANCY NOW) and mirrors. Cue the horror movie music.

One glance and I’m instantly back in a world where upstanding citizens are beholden to maintain sleek brows. I’m eyeing up my ponytail, wondering if I’ve surpassed the acceptable limit of grease. Clothing is tugged, tightened, and rearranged while I try to gauge whether this jumpsuit flatters my ass and shows too my armpit hair. It’s a personal battle every time I have to pee, and one I’ve managed to lose 3 of 3 times.

I feel sloppy. Dirty. Secretly repulsed by this underarm crusade.
I feel ugly. Inadequate. Secretly desirous of my comfortable life back in Minnesota.

But then–
OH!–

Something sort of miraculous occurs. I quit examining my exterior, I splash my face with water from the tap, and I look myself in the eyes. I square up to that reflection, I slowly smile, and inform it that elegance is an attitude. After drying my hands daintily on the legs of my pants, I exit. I give the handsome man waiting for me a whopping smack o the lips. And I tell him again how wonderful it is to be on this adventure together.

-K