I Was An Ugly Baby

When I was a small child, my brothers would frequently taunt me with the accusation that I was an ugly baby.

I was so ugly, they claimed, that my mother would plead with both Lamar and Keith to never tell me how ugly I actually was.

Being the third child, my mother ran out of time to take pictures because images of me before the age of 12 are as rare as Bigfoot sightings. This made confirming my brothers insistent and heartfelt accusation of my ugliness difficult to confirm. I recalled seeing one singular picture of me as a newborn in the hospital, but at the time, I didn't think I appeared as heinous as their descriptions suggested.

In 2006, my parent's suffered a total loss after their home burned down and any images of me that my mother managed to bum from my aunt were now ashes.

Last weekend, I had the chance to spend some time with one of my oldest friends. She produced some pictures of us as children and included in the stack, was the newborn image I recalled seeing as a child. With an adult's perspective, I was forced to accept the truth: I was in fact an ugly baby.

I'm not fishing for compliments or looking for false assurances that the truth I can see with my own two eyes doesn't actually exist. The frantic and desperate efforts of my mother who attempted to prevent me from realizing the truth that is obvious in the image above were heroic to say the least.

Thank you, Mother.