One of the unfortunate outcomes of my move to the B’More Big Girl Apartment is the rearrangement of my furniture and subsequent placement of my antique vanity perpendicular to my bed. This means that there is a set of mirrors A SET OF MIRRORS! facing my bed FACING MY BED! my sanctum of sheets and blankets and other body-covering fabric swaths MY SANCTUM AND SWATHS, OMFG!
You think I’m overreacting. You think I’m making mountains of mole hills. Well, let it be known that I’m not talking about a regular ‘ol mirror, plain and simple. I’m talking MIRRORS. Plural. Three of them. At angles to each other. Catching every. little. thing. From every. which. way. Imagine Dakota-sized thighs from three different angles and you’ll start to understanding my mirror-y meltdown.
She doesn’t specify whether it’s North or South Dakota, but I get the picture. Which is one reason why I have, literally, no mirrors in the bedroom: I have no reason to want to look at me, and it’s not like I’m expecting visitors.
Decorating suggestion: That old Headless Woman carnival illusion is done with mirrors at carefully-placed angles. Perhaps a bit of geometry will hide everything this side of, say, Sioux Falls.