Every Five Minutes

Back in high school, our acting classes were in a long orange room beside the theatre. On one end of the room the wall was lined with mirrors. Presumably, performers need mirrors to check their posture, their breathing, or to follow a teacher in warm up. I needed it to check myself out. I could not walk past that mirror without looking at myself. It’s like I was worried I was becoming a vampire, and I needed constant reassurance of my mirror manifesting mortality. I think mostly I was actually just intrigued, like an infant, by myself. I wondered what everyone else saw when they saw me, so I would check. And check often.
One friend secretly counted one day. Seventeen times. I checked on my reflection seventeen times in an hour. If my math doesn't fail me, that's about once every four minutes. That's right; I couldn't go five minutes without a glance in the mirror. I still maintain that, although checking oneself out 17 times is pretty pathetic, it isn't as lame as stalking someone for an entire class, counting how many times they've checked themselves out.
I ask, who was more obsessed?
I would like to think my seemingly self obsessed habit was more about validation than infatuation. It wasn't that I loved myself or the way I looked, what teenager does. It was more out of insecurity than vanity. Surrounded by people, most of them girls, and mostly girls that at any given time I had a crush on, I needed to check if I was still presentable. If I was still okay. The reflection would tell me where I was and whether I was worthy of attention. All I needed to know.
There are no mirrors at my office. But there is Facebook. If I were to only check my profile seventeen times in an hour that would be a miracle of restraint. I need to. I need to look at my picture and read what anybody wrote to me. I need to see if I’m still worthy of attention.