No I’m serious. I really WAS seriously funny looking. The doctor who examined me before entering Kindergarten asked my mom if I had water in the brain.
The hairdo didn’t help.
Big forehead, little nose. They called me Dishface in junior high, those mean boys.
At camp where my mother and Aunt Grace ran things – their father had started the camp way back in 1924 and basically told his two girls to run it for him- back then Mom had less time to get me in the death grip between her knees and wind my wild curls around her fingers as she did in the kindergarten picture here above.
SO she cut it short…
I look like the young J. Edgar Hoover, don’t I? Not even a smile! And look at Nan, the future model! Then look at me with my hair parted in the middle and little fat tummy.
The boy next door used to call me “Bad Looks Good Personality.” Right there, there’s the secret to my whole personality, my guiding principle right on up through the dating years: Dazzle ’em with kindness, remember all their stories, say funny things and MAYBE they won’t notice how you look. Not a bad tactic in the end, now that I’m heading for crypt keeper status – see pic of me below writing.
Well, at least people still find me nice (if a touch on the bony side ha ha. )