Could you live without your mirror?

Mirror, mirror on the wall — hang on, what mirror? Mine has gone. Or at least for the last week it has been covered up with several sheets of paper, concealing my reflection from its greatest critic — me. I have been on a mirror fast — joining in with a trend started by New York-based writer August Whitefield-Madrano, who last year took to her blog, The Beheld, to explain that she would be giving up mirrors for a month in the hope, she wrote, of addressing “the overriding self-consciousness that's taken up residence in my psyche”.

She has since completed another month of mirror fasting, filming her experience for US television, and claiming that “letting it [the mirror] fall by the wayside just let me feel calm and serene”.

Not feeling quite brave enough for the full month of reflection rejection — and decidedly sceptical about impending serenity — I restricted my fast to a week. During that time I would get no chances to stand — as I admittedly do, twice daily, while dressing and undressing — prodding my hips and stomach and whining that I’ve gained weight, while my boyfriend chants “BORING, BORING” from the next room.

Fine, so that’s a good thing. But I would also be unable to notice a tea stain on my dress or to assess whether a particular skirt and top combination would be complementary or a complete clash.

Since Whitefield-Madrano allowed herself a hand mirror “because not wearing make-up for a month is another sort of challenge” and also because blind eyeliner application would have left my face looking like a nursery school art project, my make-up mirror remained uncovered.

But here’s the thing: it’s not until you are trying not to look in the mirror that you realise they are everywhere. Mirrors confront you every few paces inside shops and are apparently a mandatory part of lift interior design. At work, two walls of the ladies lavatories are mirrored. Even on the street, there is glass — which, when you have been denied the mirror in the morning, becomes harder than ever to ignore. If I really wanted to mirror fast I’d have to walk around with my eyes closed.

In addition, while it is true that patients suffering with body dysmorphic disorder may spend hours “mirror gazing” in the hope that they might look different, experts have rejected the idea that denying oneself a mirror is a helpful remedy. Conversely, body image problems are sometimes addressed through “mirror exposure technique” where the sufferer looks in the mirror and learns how to view their reflection less critically.

Whitefield-Madrano said she realised she had been “using it [the mirror] as a way to centre myself”, and that when she stopped checking herself out all the time she “was alarmed to find that without looking in the mirror, it was difficult to tell how I was really feeling”. I can thankfully say that, mirror or no mirror, I am aware of my emotions. When I’m in a bad mood, it doesn’t take a look at my reflection to discover the fact. What I did realise is that on a usual day, if I have eaten a few too many biscuits or given in to the temptation for chips, I will spend some minutes in the evening examining my body and, despite knowing it is nonsense, persuading myself that these transgressions have already made their way to my hips. As I now can’t see my hips, a week of looking closely at nothing in the mirror but my eyes has given me the chance to critique the newly noticed dark circles underneath them. Presumably if I had no mirror at all I’d begin finding fault with my feet.

Where women have fat days, however, we also have thin days and, if I can be honest without sounding smug, most of the time I don’t actually hate my reflection — yet being required not to look at it all made me feel that I should. Rather than make me feel bad about myself, what I see in the mirror is usually reassuring — even if only because I can tell that my skirt is not tucked into my knickers — and after a week, I rather missed myself. And, since my reflection doesn’t scare me, I’m not going to hide from it.