Stanford Chaparral


I used to really fight with getting my contacts in. Every morning was another fight. It was me against the saline, and only my trembling pointer finger was on my side. I had to put them in just right, or I wouldn’t be able to see for the day. Now I’m poppin’ the little shits in like they’re sweet chocolate. Ain’t no mirror has to help.


Mirrors used to be my “safe haven” for shaving. I could see all the twists and turns of my face, and that made me feel alright. I used to like being able to see if I was cutting my face. But I also used to like not taking any risks. Now I shave in the shower, where no one will ever see the blood. Ain’t no mirror has to tell me that.

Fat Cat

I used to be fat. Really fat. I’d look in the mirror to gauge my weight, and to see if I was looking any better. I would focus on using full-length mirrors, and hone in on the waist and face to look for fat. Now I’m coming back from meals and just hopping on the scale. That scale keeps me knowing how much fat I’m putting on. I don’t need to be staring at me. And ain’t no mirror need to be staring back at me. Damn stink eye mirror.


Yes, I used to have a lot of stuff in my nose all of the time. I would get colds, etc. And sometimes, yes, it was embarrassing. So in the morning, I’d be sure to clear those boogs out, quick. But you know what? I can feel my nose, and I bet you can, too. Everyone’s always saying to me, “Why don’t you look in the mirror, clear those boogs out?” But I don’t think they understand that AIN’T NO MIRROR HAS TO LET ME KNOW WHETHER I GOT BOOGS OR NOT.

Perfect Part

I used to have to get that perfect part. You know, that part that feels sassy and scalpy. It was a little to the right, but not too much left. I used to have to see it to believe it. I would be up so close to that mirror that my breath would leave cloudies on the reflection. Now I wake up and it’s there, quick. Ain’t no mirror has to show me the way.

The Faces

Look, I don’t need a mirror anymore to know whether or not the faces I’m making are hilarious. I can make my faces and make them at friends and then see if my friends laugh or not. Sometimes they don’t, and I know that my face was either not funny or too serious. They say Jim Carrey started his career just by makin’ faces in the mirror. Well you know what? I’m not Jim Carrey, and ain’t no mirror will ever be him, either.


I used to enjoy looking at myself because it was this thing I could do. I would look at me in the mirror and it would be a thing that I could do to relate to myself. I would look at everyone else too. But not no more. Because I went blind years ago, honey, and AIN’T NO MIRROR HAS TO RUB IT IN MY FACE.