Hat's Off

I don't look good in a hat. Any kind of hat. Those made for fashion, function, or to hide a bad hair day - none of these were designed for my cranium. I have come close to losing my ears rather than succumb to the abysmal sight of my head in a stocking cap (or toque for the Northerners). I've analyzed this condition, and pondered the cause of my shocking descend into unsightliness when hats are involved.

I've believe I have cracked the case. My face is desperately out of proportion. As a result, I need the top half of my rather sizable melon unobscured to balance things out.

When you view my entire head at one glance, it is not particularly displeasing. Children do not cry at the sight of me; I've never been asked to wear a bag before entering a restaurant to protect other diners.
But if I don a hat - all bets are off.

It would seem that all these years, I've been blaming my head, when indeed it is my face that causes the quandary. It's always the obvious things we miss, isn't it?

I've always known my nose was a problem - too big, too wide, very squishy - rather a bizarre feature really. But as I have aged, I have quit sticking my face in front of slap shots in a effort to force the plastic surgery issue and decided that I can live with the nose God gave me.

The rest of my facial abnormalities have been gradually pointed out to me by various professionals. Let me share a few of their educated observations.

My hairstylist, when discussing style options with me, nodded solemnly and said "yes, with that forehead, you have to be really careful about the style you choose - covering that has to be a priority...of course, you don't want to bring too much hair on your face cause it will puff out your cheeks even more." Heartwarming.

My optometrist- not normally someone I look to for beauty critique- explained to me that because my eyes protrude so significantly out of my head that I will likely have no end of trouble with dry eye etc. It is very possible that I will see a day when my eyelids will no longer close over my "significantly protruding" eyeballs. The end result of my journey into bug-eyes, is exactly that - I will sleep like a bug - with my eyes partly open. Something to look forward to. That appointment was a real picker-upper. Can't wait till next year.

Then there was the facialist who told me that my skin, while not the worst she has ever seen, was critical, but salvageable. But time is of the essence. I must begin laser treatments and glycolic peels if I have any hope of reclaiming some sliver of beauty. She seemed a little dubious as to the likelihood of my skin ever being ravishing.
I just wanted to give her a hug.

The kicker might have been my last visit to the dentist. My dentist is a 60+ year old man who has cheated death more than once in his lifetime. He is a family friend, and has been known to call me pumpkin and rub my hair when I start freaking out in the dental chair. My last appointment started well - the scraping and cleaning was relatively painless, and then in walks Dr. Pauly.

He takes one look at my mouth and says, "so when are you going to let me replace your missing tooth?"
Hold your horses now- we are not talking about one of my front teeth, but rather an upper molar that was pulled 13 years ago after it abscessed. I have not missed this tooth.
I asked him -why?? He said "cause you can see it when you smile. Your teeth are small, and your gums are big, and everyone can see the hole in your teeth -you look like you are from Green Island". (I won't explain Green Island - just know it's NOT a compliment).

I told him I doubted I would ever let him hose me for a bridge, but I did want to ask him what I could do about getting my teeth to look whiter. He glanced at them again, and said "bleach them; they should be at least a few shades whiter - even if they do have a hole".
Again, I left with a warm fuzzy feeling.

Despite all the professional criticism, I am going to keep my face. If I'm spending money on any body parts (which I am not), I am starting at my chest and there will be no stopping until they hit my rapidly wearing knees. I figure as long as I can grow hair that can be chemically enhanced to offer another focal point on my head, I'm going to be just fine.

And if I really, really, have to wear a hat.....I'll just buy a ski mask!