You may remember Narcissus, the Greek mythological hero who has fold in love with his own reflection and eventually committed suicide, because it never returned his feelings. But … what if a person is simply obsessed with their pores and wrinkles?

Therefore, I started spending an extra 30 minutes staring in the mirror, moreover – each day. And yes, literally half an hour, I stood on two centimeters from it, trying to look in more detail the skin around the earlobe, just to be sure that there aren’t blackheads. That was only the beginning of my pores ritual: during the day I looked in the mirror of the office toilet repeatedly and quickly. But unfortunately, these were not moments when I said “You look great, girl!”. Unlike Narcissus, I was not in love with what I saw.

Peering in the window of the subway, which was dark between stations, capturing myself in 20-second fragments – enough time to confirm that nothing has shifted, fallen or wrinkled from the last time I saw myself. I’m not vain, just afraid that people watch me constantly … and it’s tiring.

That is why I decided to embark on an experiment to see if I can cope with my fears. One week. Without mirrors.

Much easier to say than to do. I’ve been procrastinating about a month, finding excuses like I have to look good at important meetings. So I took shots of my experiment right on Valentine’s Day. My boyfriend, like most men, expressed his preference for my vision “without makeup” (of course, with unobtrusive light makeup – only spiral, tiny black pencil around the eyes and transparent glaze). That was the initial impetus for my “serious” intentions.

I set a few basic rules: I could throw a quick glance once raised from sleep for no more than 30 seconds, mandatory one step away from the mirror. Until next Friday!

It turned out that the first day was not so bad; we went to dinner and I didn’t even felt awkward to be the only woman in the restaurant with “almost no makeup”. To be honest, I wanted to try to be completely without makeup, but that wouldn’t give me peace all night. So even with a little makeup, which should not be how to spoil, the uncomfortable feeling that I need to look in the mirror, suddenly began to dwell in me. I wanted to check my hair, skin … after all, it was Valentine’s Day. Fortunately, my boyfriend is very good at making me feel beautiful, so somehow I forgot about the mirrors and continued the experiment.

By the next morning, when I went to the gym. Such places are useful to have mirrors to make sure that you lift weights properly. However, when it comes to squats, yoga or spinning – sense of “right” is growing and you begin to look in the mirror constantly to confirm that you look ridiculous or as good as others around you. Yet there is indirect competition, fueled by the mirrors and to avoid any thoughts is almost impossible. On the way home, quite by accident I felt myself looking in the window of a taxi: red cheeks, hair – out of control, and vest – with disheveled neckline.

Monday morning was slightly more complicated – as a writer, I spend a lot of time alone at home, writing on the computer (and to be honest, sometimes I stand all day in pajamas and face mask). This particular week was full of meetings and dinners, which was great, but also slightly daunting because of volcanic painful pimple that felt swelling on my jaw line. According to rules, I did everything possible to cover it up for 30 second. What I found? If you’re not searching the pimple, it does not even exist.

But even I found this magic; avoiding mirrors during the day is very difficult. Our treacherous reflexes are everywhere – from the revolving door at the office by glass in the bathroom of the gym. Moreover, the sight of our own faces and bodies often interfere with what you really need to see. If you have ever had FaceTime conversation with a friend, checking out your own circles under the eyes, then you definitely know what I mean. While this behavior is interpreted as vanity, the truth is that this is a reflection of the uncertainty with which we relate to ourselves and hope that when you look in the mirror, it will reflect the vision that we want to see.

The most difficult moment, somewhat ironic was during the yoga class – a place where you have to abandon the self and focusing on breathing and movement. Surrounded on all sides by mirrors, I felt trapped – I attended these classes for several days without I look in the mirror and realized that my body would be different after the fleeing of my irritable glance. For twenty minutes in class, I felt that I was more worried about my belly fat than grateful for the opportunity to break the rule. This insight has opened my eyes.

Leaving the pimple aside, the rest of the week went fairly easily. I understand that my habits for constantly “checking” in the mirror are easily replaced with a deep breath and, occasionally, lines like “I’m fine!”. And indeed I was. Week without a mirror showed me not only how dependent I was on it, but gave me permission to ask myself what happens in moments when I cannot see my appearance.

Next Saturday, I spent my first long look in the mirror and you know what? My pores looked smaller than ever!