Unmasked

 

If nothing else, I’m memorable.  Not many people forget meeting me.  With a face like mine, there are days when it’s worth it to go outside and face the attention and days when the prospect is exhausting.  People think I’m a burn victim because the left side of my face is disfigured.

 

I wear my hair long and parted to the side so I can cover most of it and people don’t get the shock of it all at once.  I don’t blame them.  It’s a normal and involuntary reaction.  Knowing that doesn’t make it less painful or annoying to be the object of everyone’s pity or disgust.

 

Over the years I’ve learned to mask my reactions to those of others.  Often, it’s a matter of keeping the hideously scarred side of my face turned away from them.  I also keep my eyes down and cast my gaze away from onlookers whenever possible.  Fortunately, even before I became an eyesore, hats were a big part of my wardrobe.  

 

It would be such a good lesson for everyone to look like me for a day.  Instead of wanting flattery or attention, they’d realize how lovely it is to go unnoticed because of a deformity.  The solace of being average or plain would instantly be transformed into a phenomenal blessing.  Nobody is truly average.  We are all one-of-a-kind and special.  That is my consolation.  In a society where aging is dreaded for its effect on one’s outward appearance, I am exempt.

 

Yvonne A.

Feb. 2021