Nothing.
The Dope has provided me a voice, silly as it is. And I love that.
I’ll still love @Cecil_Adams and all the Dopers.
I love reading threads and hearing about you guys adventures.
I love learning new things.
Beck, I read the first paragraphs and was expecting it to be, “You think I’m a blonde, tall, woman. In fact, I am a blonde, tall, man.”
So after I realized - after a second or so - that it wasn’t that, everything else was gravy. You can embellish as much as you want, no problem! Sorry to hear you went through all that trauma though.
I haven’t had your kind of physical (and psychic) trauma, but I sure as hell don’t look like what I looked liked when I was young. And I stressed soooooo much about it then. More fool me.
Now, I know for deep down sure the only good in people is in the inside. And, Beck? You’ve got good in spades.
Beck, honey. Many of us are in our own similar boats. Looking at me today, one would never know I was once a model, tall, redhead, and what is known as artistically perfect proportions. All it did was cause problems for this introvert. Sometimes it brought me some wanted attention but most of the time it was trouble and pain. Now, I’m overweight, I limp, use a cane and at age 62, I still get zits. I’m happy to not be who I once aspired to be and with my mental health issues, I still give thanks every day for being here. And for knowing that beautiful people like you, and the others here are here.
I’m not crying, you’re crying. Sending hearts and flowers.
And fuzzy kitties, please send fuzzy kitties.
I realize my face would not look like it did even if I didn’t have the wreck.
I wanted to let it out.
I’ve felt like I was fooling you all or something. It had to be spoken.
Huh. For some reason the vague shape I have of you in my head was always a redhead.
There’s a woman who I once met who I think of when I think of you; she was tall, and wispy, and her blonde hair had gone grey. I thought she was beautiful.
Overwhelmingly, the word I would use to describe her was “elegant”. She moved with grace, in everything she did. Like a dancer.
That’s what I think of when I think of you in physical form: elegant.
And you don’t get to tell me I’m wrong. Because I know I’m not.
I can’t. They’ll fall in love with you and I will never win them back.
Re, your face. I have failed to mention the skin cancer that is ruining my face, one bit at a time. It’s time to go see the doc again. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as I would have expected back when I was modeling.
Yeah, @carnut take care of that.
Skin cancer is no joke.
I am a proud member of Becklovers.
Everyone else has said things so eloquently, and I’m not good at putting my emotions into words.
I like you. I like your crazy life, I like your crazy family, I like your ghost, and the animals, and I love your compassion for those who need help. You don’t even ask, you charge right in.
That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. There’d be a big hole in all our lives if you disappeared on us, so you’d better not.
Crap, now I have to get rid of the “Everything is beautiful, in its own way” ear worm.
And, I got .99 corn dogs after dialysis today!! Whoo-hoo!
Thank you for this. My therapist said that people were too concerned with themselves to worry about your looks.
It wasn’t the average passer-by that bothered me. It was the people I needed to interact with that often made winces and doubletakes. I could see alot were visibly ashamed of their behavior then went overboard trying to help me.
I’ve never been a terribly easy person in public because I stuttered as kid. This accident brought out my voice problems again as being unable to speak to people. I’m working on that now with alittle success. Or I can sign.
I am better, but, my self esteem took a hit tonight. I’ll be ok.
It just can’t be helped that it will happen. I didn’t panic or get overly anxious. I’m fine, really.
@Spice_Weasel , your insight into things is often spot on. You’re good, girl!
b.
i explained to a child once that the scars on a person’s face was because they did battle with fire. that the scars are there to show how bravely the person fought and lived through the pain to be here with us. they are battle scars and are nothing to fear, they should be honoured.
your lived through a horrible accident, you have the visible scars to show your hard fight to live through it. you battled to live and are still in the fight to be here.
we honour that.
I say embrace it! Go full steam-punk when you go out in public! Bought my wife this hat for Christmas:
She has necklaces, earrings, etc. Enough of that, and no one will notice the borg devices, or they’ll think it’s all part of the ensemble.
Indeed I do.
How? We have (had?) no idea what you physically looked like. Quite frankly, I never imagined you as tall or blonde. Gorgeous? No. Attractive? Maybe. Does it matter? No. Can I ask more questions and answer them myself? If I want to.
I think my mental image would be described more as a “former redhead” - now grey.
I’ve picked up that you can speak, but prefer not to for the most part. I’ve (obviously) picked up that you have had numerous medical problems. What I’ve really picked up on is that you have a positive outlook on life; you enjoy animals (obviously) and have a wicked sense of humor. Who else can plant Bigfoot evidence on their lands just to confound their (I didn’t realize step-) son? You are a born story-teller, and I love hearing of your latest escapades.
A number of years ago, I was in an accident. Was kinda zoning out; went over the top of a hill, and there was a guy at the bottom of the hill waiting to turn left. Rear-ended him. Ambulance took me to the hospital to check me out; rash on my chest proved that I had my seatbelt on at the time. Cop had to watch me pee into a bottle for testing to make sure I wasn’t drunk. Not a problem. Bottom line - truck was totalled, but I was OK.
I bring up this story because my wife was very cold toward me for weeks after the accident. Then, one night, she absolutely broke down sobbing. She had gone to whatever lot to get personal possessions out of the truck, and saw how bad the damage was. She told me that she was having nightmares about what could have happened and how close I was to dying. If she had those strong emotions when all I had was a rash on my chest from the seat belt, I could only imagine how her mind would handle it if I had any substantial injuries from the accident. You are absolutely correct that your husband is shell-shocked (um, wasn’t that term from WWI? Shouldn’t we be using PTSD? 
) He may not look at you the same way, but the fact that he’s still around 10 years later shows something. I’ve never gotten the impression from your writing that he was “terrible”, only a bit distant (something I have been guilty of).
Now shake it off and get back to what you’re best at - humering us. We all know that you ain’t right in the head, but in the best of ways.
I do not pity myself. I really don’t.
The realities of how I am are accepted as the best I can do.
I think you’re thoughts about Mr.Wrek are correct.
He’s aloof by nature, anyway.
It’s ok, he’s not mean. Except when he calls me ‘Olive Oyl’.
I think it’s his attempt at a joke. Not his wheelhouse.
He pays the bills. You’d think we were the Rockefellers the way they look some months. I’m just so tired of pheasant-under-glass, btw😉.
I’ll be ok.
And you rescued JoJo.
You didn’t care what he looked like, and he didn’t care what you look like. All is good. Prrrrrr.
Exactly!
TY