Objects in the Mirror May Appear Funnier Than They Are

I have a little secret. Not a big secret - just a little one. One I didn't really intend to share with anyone, well, ever.

Not because it will tarnish my supremely resplendent persona. I'm more of a smudged window, to tell the truth. And certainly not because I have my sites set on one day holding political office and fear some squinty reporter will dig up this revealing blog post.

Mainly, because it will make me look a little silly. And then I thought - if these suckers haven't figured that out by now - well then, god bless their clueless little hearts.

So here's the deal.

I set my alarm for 6:40 a.m. every day. I am due at work at 7:30 a.m. This would be a reasonable wake up time in order for me to shower, slap on some eyeliner and haul my heiney out the door. Maybe even manage to grab a quick cup of crappy coffee in the cafeteria before I begin my daily ritual of Office Weenie-ing.

But, I also love to wake up leisurely. That is, I do not pop out of bed, slap my hands together and burst into song. That is not, shall we say, how I roll.

So, I set my clock 35 minutes fast. This allows me 5 opportunities to bitch-slap my alarm and take my time getting up. Plus, it forces me to do simple math in a half-awake state as I attempt to ascertain the actual time and I think that just makes me a better person.

This, however, is not my secret.

The first thing I do once I turn off my alarm and actually let my feet hit the floor is limp like an old lady to the bathroom. You'd think I'd just undergone hip surgery. It's pathetic.

This, however, is not my secret.

I turn on the light and squint like a police officer just pointed a flashlight in my eyes at a checkpoint. Once my eyes adjust I do something quite ridiculous.

I look in the mirror and smile. Not just a little half-grin, a full-on Cheshire Cat shit-eating grin grin. In fact, I pull my face real close to the mirror (not to get a better look at my Medusa-like hairdo, but because without my contacts I can't hardly see my own self) and I grin even wider. I open my eyes real wide-like and occasionally even stick out my tongue. I stand there and smile until I laugh at myself.

It's not always a full-throated laugh. I'm definitely not rolling around on the ground, because while I think I'm moderately amusing on occasion - the moment is marked with a certain amount of tragedy (did I mention the Medusa-like hair?)

But I smile, let out a quick chuckle and go about the business of making myself look like I didn't just walk out of a scene from "Zombie Hos II".

This is my secret.

The question now is - why the hell would I share that with you? I only have one inkling of an idea and it is this - I think it is important to laugh at yourself. I think it's important to make sure you smile and giggle at least once a day. I think the best way to improve the way you look - isn't by running a comb through your unruly locks - it's by lightening your heart and spirit.

I'm a dumb ass goofball and there are way worse things to be. But let me toss out a double-dog dare. Tomorrow when you wake up and wipe the boogers from your eyes - smile some goofball smile at yourself in the mirror.

I dare you not to laugh.