Mirror, Mirror

They were at it again. Fighting, yelling at each other, arguing about whose turn it was to do the dishes. The blond one was adamant that it was the redhead's turn, and the redhead sure that it wasn't. They fought like regular roommates, always bickering about something or the other, and usually the redhead won. She seemed to be the more dominating of the two.

I mean, I see it all. Forget the fly on the wall; the mirror is the best place to be if you want the real scandals - the tears, the fights, the happiness, the triumphs. Of course, being a mirror does have its downsides. When the blond one stares in, nose in the air, checking if everything up there is clean, or when the red head flosses her teeth, it's not the most pleasant of experiences.

"Oh, forget it, I'm going out!" The redhead spun on her heel, storming out of the apartment, the argument over the dishes apparently abandoned.

"Hey, don't forget, I'm going out at seven!" the blond one yelled after the redhead.

A faint "Whatever!" could be heard drifting up the staircase as the redhead clattered downstairs and then the door slamming behind her.

As soon as she'd gone, on went the music, the same as every other time. That familiar piano glissando, then the harmonizing voices, blending together, along with the rhythmic drum and keyboard accompaniment. The blond one was a huge Abba fan, and, as always, began to sing along.

You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen…

The blond one's face appeared in front of me, mouth gaping open as shocking red lipstick was smeared across the full lips, giving a vampish, sexy look in the sort of "I'm a two-dollar hooker" category.

The blond one always went overboard with the cosmetics. The redhead, now she could make herself up properly, subtly, attractively. The other one looked like one of those scary china dolls.

Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah…

A cloud of blond hair haloed the face, bringing a whole new meaning to the word 'volumized'. Silver eyeshadow sparkled on the eyelids and winged out black eyeliner gave a catlike appearance. The eyelashes seemed to have been replaced by false ones - thick, hairy caterpillars, with thin, spindly legs, splaying down onto the blush-defined cheeks.

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life…

And the dress… It was stunning. Crushed red velvet, low cut and daringly short, revealing as much leg as possible without being arrested for indecent exposure. It clung everywhere, outlining every curve of the blond one's body.

Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen…

Then came the pantyhose. Cursing as legs became tangled with the hosiery, the blond one stumbled and fell all over the place, but eventually, the pale, white legs became a shimmering bronze color. The feet were jammed into stilettos, and suddenly, the tall blond had to duck so as to gaze into me properly.

Glitter. Lots and lots of it. Dusted over shoulders, down the cleavage that hadn't been there ten minutes ago (thank the Lord for padded Wonderbras), along the defined cheekbones.

A quick spritz of perfume, a hasty squirt of breath freshener and the blond one was set, all ready to go.

Have you ever noticed how people talk to themselves in the mirror? Well, that's what the blond one started to do, blowing kisses at the reflection for added measure. "Well, my darling, you are gorgeous if I do say so myself." Words cooed from the bright red lips, the spidery lashes fluttering and the red-painted false fingernails scratching across the face.

Then the smiling, admiring face contorted into a look of shock as the noise of a key being slid into the hole outside cut through "Dancing Queen".

The blond one dashed over to the CD played and switched off the music, wiping furiously at the thick, overpowering makeup.

The redhead walked in through the door, looking harried. "I forgot my…"

Trailing off, she stared at the blond one in horror.

"Taylor Hanson, what the hell are you doing wearing my clothes?!"

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