This is the second installment of my commitment to NaBloPoMo. If that looks a bit like a porn site, click on the “Gift” icon to your right to see what it’s all about.
The suggested topic today is: What is the most disappointing gift you received as a child.
OK so I can’t totally blame my weight issues on the good intentions of my great-Aunt Helen, but c’mon. The worst gift I ever received as a child was a pair of Hanes suntan pantyhose.
In QUEEN SIZE.
W. T. F.
It shouldn’t even matter that at the tender age of 10 I was just barely five feet tall and little more than 100 pounds so weight wasn’t really an issue for me (yet).
What probably does matter is that my sweet aunt may not have had the money to buy anything more extravagant that nylon undergarments. Maybe she scoured her apartment for something worthy of a 10 year old little girl. Or maybe she had a bunch of pre-wrapped gifts at home and she grabbed one at random to bring to our house.
The reality is, in a decade or so she would be diagnosed with dementia. A horrible condition which I believe is probably the worst thing ever.
But from a child’s perspective, opening that small, carefully wrapped package, I imagined it was perhaps a new pair of mittens. Or a small purse….or even a stuffed animal. But pantyhose. And I repeat. In QUEEN SIZE.
Beyond mortifying. I’ve been on a diet ever since.
A new challenge!
I started this blog for myself – not really to gain any kind of audience or to write prolific posts. It’s just my personal writing outlet that I can pick up or put down whenever I like. But this month, I’m trying something different. I’m participating in BlogHer‘s National Blog Post Month – or NaBloPoMo. Every month has a different theme – this month’s theme is GIFT. And each day there is a prompt to inspire my blog post. On this the busiest month of the year, I’m going to at least commit to trying to post daily. So here goes –
Today’s prompt is “What’s the first tangible gift you remember receiving?”
I’m totally dating myself here, but the first tangible gift I remember receiving was on Christmas morning in the early to mid 1970s. It was a Mrs. Beasley doll. I was about four years old. I’m sure there’s a yellowing picture of me in the back of some junk drawer holding my Mrs. Beasley, but since I can’t find one, here she is.
I used to love wearing her little black plastic glasses and I thought her blue polka dot outfit was super cool. Her body was soft and huggable and her hands were freakishly realistic.
She was the doll from TV’s “Family Affair”, a show which I barely recall ever watching. She went everywhere with me. And she fit perfectly in doll carriages, the back seat of our also super cool station wagon, or in my twin size bed with the Peter Pan sheets.
The pull-cord on her back made her talk to me and say the sweetest things. Her outfit didn’t change, but if I remember correctly, her little skirt could be tied and untied. So there was that. She wasn’t a Monster High doll with parts that come off or a Barbie doll that was sleek and beautiful. Mrs. Beasley was just a kindly old lady living in a doll’s body. And she was a friendly face that greeted me each afternoon when I got home from kindergarten.
But then her hair got all matted and kind of gross. And she was lost to the Toy Box forever.