I was the family joke when I was growing up. They called me Dum-Dum. I was also “the ugliest baby” my father had ever seen. I eventually came to terms that this is the hand that I was dealt and carried on. There are others out there that have much shittier hands than me so I just made the best of it.
Oh sure, I was different. I thought differently, I saw things differently, I did things differently. Everyone in the household wore the “What the Fuck?!” face most of the 18 years I lived there. And when I moved in with my husband, he wore it for the next 20+ years we were together. And yes. The Viking wears it too.
But during my genealogy project, I came across pictures of myself as a kid. I wasn’t ugly! What the hell?! Stupid and ugly….those were the words. But look at me!
I’m fucking adorable!
And then I started looking more closely at the rest of the photos and realized that Mrs. Completely was hiding there the whole time! Like a Mini-Me! If only I had known!
Those facial expressions aren’t those of a stupid person. There are definitely things going on in that head.
I saw, I analyzed and I got grossed out. There is no disputing the wheels were turning and I had come to a logical conclusion.
I tried to explain myself all the time! Obviously not well enough though. Those aren’t the eyes of a stupid kid – they are the windows into a wacky soul. An adorable wacky soul!
It’s not like I didn’t try to be normal. What other conclusion could anyone make about this pic except I was trying very, very hard to be sweet like a normal person?
That’s not a good look on anyone but I’m putting in the effort.
Most people would have left the room, but I stuck it out. That’s loyalty!
And then Dad set me up to look really stupid with my Grade 2 friends when he explained what an Orgy was. Not cool, Dad!
I may have fallen for the Orgasm thing but despite what Dad says now, I didn’t fall for a Carpool being a swimming pool with sloped ends that you drive your car through.
I stopped asking him questions after that and just figured it out on my own.
Sure, I had my moments. I wasn’t always good – I probably wasn’t good 70% of the time – but aside from my older sister, who is good all the time? Certainly not the person who gave me that damned black left eye! Oddly enough, that’s not the only black eye I sported in childhood pictures.
So, I’m reviewing everything I always believed about myself. Who knew that at this late date it would be necessary? And what does that say when I have to go all the way back to the beginning in order to grow now?
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