I feel like I’ve misrepresented myself on the Dope, I didn’t mean to. It just came out that way.
I think you guys think I’m this blond, tall, good looking woman. I’m not.
I’m blond, veering on grey. I’m tall.
That’s about it.
I told you all about my bad deer vs. car wreck before. 10/11 years ago.
Ask the woman who’s face slammed into the side glass, ricocheted into the steering wheel and hung upside down for 2 hours what her face looks like now. After many surgeries (17, in fact). I lost an eye and most my teeth. They’re fixed for the most part.
I’m still not really presentable in public. I look terrible. My body looks ok, except for borg devices.
I’ve also not told you all about my family. I have 2 daughters. The Lil 'wrekker is the oldest one. The younger wrekker is not in my life much. She lives a bit away and is not at all happy with me. This is why her story is not told here. She’s a nurse.
My other 2 kids are step kids. mid-Dau and Son-of-a-wrek. I’ve had them since they were very young. I have loved them most of their lives. They have the beloved grandkids.
My husband can’t look at me. This is why he’s gone all the time. I let y’all believe he was terrible. He’s not that bad. His first wife died in a car wreck. I believe he’s shellshocked or something.
Of course I have severe anxiety and panic when out in public. I can’t speak a lot of the time. I wanna run and hide.
My kids and pets don’t care what I look like. I live/survive on that love everyday.
This is why a possum or a decrepit jacked up cat don’t look ugly to me. I feel their pain.
I’m so sorry if I lead you guys down the garden path about this.
I mistakenly thought I would really be anonymous.
My adventures in diabetes and dialysis are all true. My pet and wildlife stories are all true.
The ghost stories are embellished (just sayin’) but true.
I see it this way: there were some things you felt so uncomfortable about, that even here, you weren’t ready to include them in your posts and stories. That’s all.
You are cool. Beck. Never doubt that.
I was 5’ 3’ when I met Mrs Plant (v.3.0). With this ankylosing spondilitis thing, I am 4’ 11".
We less than beautiful Arkansans stick together.
Beck, I’ve seen photos. Frankly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You really are gorgeous. I’m not saying this to be kind or make you feel better. It’s the unvarnished truth. If you’ve had some replacement parts, they don’t show, and if they did, you’d still be a looker. Most of us WISH we looked that good.
As for Mr. Wrekk, I always thought he was just a guy who was born to hunt and fish and wasn’t great at expressing (or even identifying) his feelings.
The true you comes across in your posts. If that’s not the whole, nuanced story, it’s still who you really are.
What we look like doesn’t (shouldn’t) matter.
What if you bought a box of cake mix and the box was bent and torn with a bad pic on it? Then you bake it and its the best cake you ever had.
You’re right it shouldn’t matter. But it does.
People look at your face. When they can’t you notice. Even if it a medical person, who’s seen it all, you notice. Alittle bite comes out of your heart everytime.
I’m so, so much better about it than I was early on.
It was a hard bridge to cross.
Ivy helps me so much with this. She never looks away or avoids my face.
I love that girl, but if she don’t quit spraying Lysol I’m gonna kill her.
