I have a blue face and a balding head. Terrible isn't it? When I walk past a mirror I sometimes do a double take because I don't recognize the face I see looking back at me. I didn't always look like this. Once upon a time, I had soft, curly hair that hung gently across my shoulders in little ringlets, my lips were a baby blush pink, and my eyes were, well, beauty star gorgeous. But now, I am what some call disfigured, or ugly, or at worst.....creepy looking. Yep, I said it, some people see me and just think I look creepy.
For the most part, I don't mind the way I look. I mean, I have had a bit of time to adjust and get used to my new appearance, but every now and then there are moments that take me back to that horrific night, the night I was made to look like this. One of Arly's little friends came for a visit and brought her new little baby doll. That's what got me all in a tizzy because that doll had baby doll skin, like I used to have, and it made me angry. I didn't get angry at this new baby, instead, it made me angry about what happened to us all those years ago, to Baby B and Ecky, but most of all, to Angel Face.
When no one was looking, I crawled up on the table where that little, or should I say, little doll with a rather large head, was propped up next to her blanket. I couldn't figure out why her head seemed so large compared to mine. She didn't talk, she didn't wink or smile, she just sat there staring blankly into space. At first I got the shivers, like a cat walked across my back, because I feared that after we were buried, they quit making dolls like us, and these new dolls were just rubber baby looking things. But something inside me told me that wasn't the case. I think my face may have just scared this doll slap to death or something.
Part of me wished I had a cattle prod so I could shock that doll into life again, but then I thought bad about thinking that. I had no clue what had happened to her, I just looked at her face, her larger than should be face, and assumed the worst I guess. My stomach started to hurt because it occurred to me that most people do the same thing to me, and it makes me feel bad. I had a lot of thinking to do, about myself, about how I feel about other folks, and things, and ideas.
This little doll may look perfect, but underneath it all, I think I have the perfect little doll life of anyone I know. I may not look all beautiful anymore, but I am loved, I have friends, I have the wonderful memories of my Angel Face, and most of all, I have the belief that everyone is beautiful, blue faced or big head and all. I might need to tattoo that to my forehead for a while to remind me, but for now, I think I will go and play I Spy with Baby B. Maybe we can spy a new little baby doll who isn't afraid to make some new friends. Then again, maybe we can just be grateful our heads are exactly like they are.....perfect too.
I believe beauty is in the soul and like the old tobacco spitting guy who Angel Face used to laugh at would say, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever."
For the most part, I don't mind the way I look. I mean, I have had a bit of time to adjust and get used to my new appearance, but every now and then there are moments that take me back to that horrific night, the night I was made to look like this. One of Arly's little friends came for a visit and brought her new little baby doll. That's what got me all in a tizzy because that doll had baby doll skin, like I used to have, and it made me angry. I didn't get angry at this new baby, instead, it made me angry about what happened to us all those years ago, to Baby B and Ecky, but most of all, to Angel Face.
When no one was looking, I crawled up on the table where that little, or should I say, little doll with a rather large head, was propped up next to her blanket. I couldn't figure out why her head seemed so large compared to mine. She didn't talk, she didn't wink or smile, she just sat there staring blankly into space. At first I got the shivers, like a cat walked across my back, because I feared that after we were buried, they quit making dolls like us, and these new dolls were just rubber baby looking things. But something inside me told me that wasn't the case. I think my face may have just scared this doll slap to death or something.
Part of me wished I had a cattle prod so I could shock that doll into life again, but then I thought bad about thinking that. I had no clue what had happened to her, I just looked at her face, her larger than should be face, and assumed the worst I guess. My stomach started to hurt because it occurred to me that most people do the same thing to me, and it makes me feel bad. I had a lot of thinking to do, about myself, about how I feel about other folks, and things, and ideas.
This little doll may look perfect, but underneath it all, I think I have the perfect little doll life of anyone I know. I may not look all beautiful anymore, but I am loved, I have friends, I have the wonderful memories of my Angel Face, and most of all, I have the belief that everyone is beautiful, blue faced or big head and all. I might need to tattoo that to my forehead for a while to remind me, but for now, I think I will go and play I Spy with Baby B. Maybe we can spy a new little baby doll who isn't afraid to make some new friends. Then again, maybe we can just be grateful our heads are exactly like they are.....perfect too. I believe beauty is in the soul and like the old tobacco spitting guy who Angel Face used to laugh at would say, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever."
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