Who's the fairest of them all?

Yesterday, The Boy and I headed out for an early brunch a few towns away.

Brunch is never a bad thing, especially when trifle is involved. The ladies who work there have now been sufficiently trained to bring it out when they see me, regardless of the fact that it's 0830 on a Sunday morning. Donkey may say everyone enjoys a good parfait, but I must insist that a well-crafted trifle can improve anyone's day.

Somewhere between choosing a primo booth and putting milk in my coffee, I rose to wash the newspaper print from my hands before tucking in to my food. I usually continue working out the crossword puzzle while I eat, but it's nice to start the meal all shiny and clean, you know?

So, I enter the washroom and head for a stall. As I walk past the sinks, I casually glanced in the mirror. And stopped dead.

I looked fabulous.

Seriously, this must have been a magic mirror. Ninety-nine per cent of the time I will go out of my way to avoid reflective surfaces, as the images I see haunt me in my dreams. This time? Ooh la la! I had good skin tone, my hair was electric and I looked a good ten pounds lighter. I wanted to rip the damn thing down and take it home with me.

Aww, that probably would have broken the spell, right?