Thoughts & Stories: A Good Year

Babyjenni My mother has always made reference to "my good year". This is an inside joke that we both find very funny.

I was born, quite literally, one of the most beautiful of all children. As well as the most humble. Corkscrew curls gathered around my head like a halo... it was utterly adorable. I looked like one of the girls from the peanut gang, the one who was nice to Charlie Brown and then threw a rock at his head for fun when his back was turned. Did I mention my hugely giant brown eyes? Yeah, I was pretty much the cutest kid ever.


Fourth grade, (or maybe even before) somebody (mom...was it you?) started beating me with an ugly stick. What's worse is I wasn't one of those happy, ignorant children that don't know they've gone ugly. I KNEW it. And it was very sad.

I remember my mom trying to help, in vain. My dad and her would encourage me to try new things, like basketball, art, or helping me call up people to invite to my birthday parties. Mom would offer to take me shopping only to deal with my bad attitude as she drug me through Mervyn's. She bought me tame, little girl make up (think bonnie bell) and I would break into dramatics saying "nothing can help me! besides, make up is for shallow people!"...and then I threw my Easter basket against the wall and ran away for a good 5 years until I was picked up by a nice family named the
Plonkers. They raised me in the woods aided by 2 fairies until I turned about was only then that I returned to society...

Wait, no. No that's not all what happened. Let me gather my thoughts...

Anyway, long story short I didn't actually start to sprout out of that awkward girl stage until about 8th grade. I shot up, therefore losing all that baby hair de-frizzed, I got my braces off....I gained a waist and some other womanlyattributes and boom....bring high school on baby. I am SO ready.

Until junior year hit that is. Suddenly I had acne, coarse defiant hair and no confidence.I lost that blasted retainer resulting in teeth dead set on reverting to their crooked state.

I shaved my head, covered myself in ashes and wailed to the heavens,

"Will this cycle of on again off again ugliness ever end?!?"

Today as I return from Target with a bag full of skin cleansers and tooth whiteners I can honestly tell will not. We each have our good year, and then become average like everyone else. Unless you are Heidi Klum of course. I suppose I'm realizing that there is so much more to life and I really need to work on just being okay with that much loved ugly stick. Because even if I conquer it for a time, it will come back for me eventually.

What was my good year? I cannot say for sure. 

So let's go with 23....or 3. I'm fine with either.

Me : "blah blah blah complain complain...sigh....."

Mom: "still waiting for your good year?"

Me: "Yep."