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It hasn't even been a few minutes since I looked into the mirror and didn't recognise myself.

I haven't cut my hair in months. I haven't got a tattoo on my face. I haven't picked out a nose from a catalogue nor have I been picking out allergens of choice to make my lips puffy.

I haven't changed my vital statistics. I have not been binging nor have I been dieting myself into a mould.

I just didn't recognise myself.

The mirror is still staring at me. With each contemplation of the strands of my hair and the conglomeration of features that make up my face, I could not find the thread of connection that made the image in the mirror (I need not say 'reflection' for obvious reasons) me.

I realised there was no reason for Me to belong to this body.

The eyes could have been any other colour and I would still be looking out of them.
So why is it that Me has dispossessed this body that seems to be carrying it around? The only reason I surmise that Me is still seated within the tall, loosely attired body is that there is no one looking over my shoulder and I still find the questions coming.
The image in the mirror and the poser of the questions have to be linked somehow.

I need to take them out to coffee and introduce them.