I grew up spending a lot of time outdoors. Summers were spent at the cottage, mostly on the shore or in a boat, with no thought of sun screen. Winters we skated, tobogganed, built snow forts, also with no sunscreen. From about age 15 to 40 I liked to have a tan. So I worked at it. I didn't go so far as to put iodine in baby oil and literally fry myself but I got some pretty good burns over the years. And you know all that exposure made an impact on my face.
I think I am quite plain, a plain Jean, to mix the letters slightly. My face is long, chin ‘strong’, eyes too closely set, nose noticeable, forehead not so much. I often feel invisible and often seemingly am, as people run into me or cut me off or take my place in line without apparently being aware that I am already in the space they think is theirs. And that was before my hair turned gray and I became completely irrelevant as well as imvisible.
I am entirely at home not standing out. I wear normal clothes, have a normal haircut, and generally keep a low profile; except right now.
A couple of weeks ago I started putting Efudex on my nose and forehead to burn off some of the sun-damaged cells. It’s a great product, because it only attacks bad cells and leaves the healthy ones alone, but it’s not a fun process. My forehead is a mass of spots, kind of chicken pox-y looking, but my nose is a mess. It is bright red, a bit scabby, and sort of peeling. It itches and stings and sometimes it actually throbs. I’m sure it glows in the dark, like neon.
I’m also pretty sure that people are staring at me wondering if I have something contagious. I live in the surety that I make virtually no mark on the world and that, really, only a few people care that I exist. But right now I think maybe the stranger in the theatre doesn’t really want to sit next to me or experiences a small frisson of revulsion at the sight of my poor proboscis. And that makes me a bit uncomfortable.
Is it even vanity; or is it insecurity or self consciousness?
It’s a little off season but just call me Rudolph.
5 comments:
You are very funny, Rudi! Give me some too! It just won't make me either more visible or more beautiful. I'd still be stuck with me!
Well I saw your beautiful face today and I don't think you looked like Rudolph - a little red and sore, but nowhere near as bad as you describe. And beyond what I SAW, what I FELT was gratitude that you are taking care of yourself and your health. I'm sorry that it's uncomfortable, physically and emotionally, and I hope that now that you're done with the Efudex, things return speedily to normal.
But I have to say I don't know what you mean when you describe yourself as a plain Jane and write about being invisible or irrelevant. Because when I think of you, I think of someone with so much intellectual and social and emotional mass you pull people into your orbit - and once they're there you amuse them, make them think, care for them without being sucky. Plus, I always think of you as glowing and vibrant. That being said, I am reminded of how I feel when I have a cold sore, and I think I understand a bit of what you're feeling.
Love and hugs to you, dear beautiful Jean!
Well that was awfully nice as was seeing you yesterday (why does one use 'awful' as a modifier for 'nice'. It can only be in the 'awe' sense which I did rather feel when I read your comment). Thanks! I think we'll have our last Hector Jr. for dinner tonight in honour of my chicken pox-y face. Love you back.
Have to think that "awfully nice" comes from that period in American English where things were "Awfully" everything. That one stuck, but the others — awfully kind, awfully tasty, awfully pretty, awfully big, etc. have mostly dropped out. Sticky idiom!
And I agree with Miriam, except for the part about you having a lot of mass. That seems to be coming awfully close (ha!) to being insulting. I would've said that you were very dense.
...no, wait
I am at a loss for words after reading your latest blurb. You are hilarious. I cannot imagine this vanity concept as I am so close to being perfect.
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