Part 1of2

I was around six years old, and it was on a Sunday, when I addressed the elephant in the room.

Except, it was actually on my face.

My mom had finished brushing my hair for evening church service, and I looked back at her dresser’s mirror to see the finished result.

First, I looked straight ahead, then I turned my face slightly to the right, then slightly to the left.

Not bad, I thought of my mom’s handiwork.

I stared back into the mirror, until my eyes caught my eyes.

Then my eyes started searching the rest of my face, taking everything in.

It was all fun and games, until my big brown eyes saw the big brown mole next to the right side of my nose.

It was around the size of the eraser on a #2 pencil.

I asked my face just why it had to be there?

Then that was that, and I walked away from the mirror.

That was the first time I remember feeling downhearted about my face.

It’s a good thing I didn’t know at the time, that a big nose was growing on my face too.

Ever see a sassy six-year-old girl with a strong personality throwing a tantrum?

There was only one time in my entire life that I was happy to have a big nose and a mole on my face.

That was when I was in the 5th grade, and decided on my own that I was going to dress up as a witch for the Halloween costume contest at my school in Lathrop, California.

You see, I wanted to win the orange plastic pumpkin with the black plastic handle, filled to the brim with candy.

The year before when I was in the 4th grade, a girl in my class had won this same contest, and when I saw the orange plastic pumpkin filled to the brim with candy, my big eyes and jealous heart vowed that come next year, the orange plastic pumpkin filled to the brim with candy would be all mine.

ALL MINE!

ALL MIIIIINE!

And so it went, little ten-year-old Missy waited until the night before the day of the contest to determine she was going to dress up as a witch, using whatever she could, whatever was available, to make it happen.

I asked my mom if I could borrow her flowy black skirt and black matching blouse that came with a fabric black belt.

She said, yes.

I already had a black floppy witch’s hat from a previous shopping experience.

I knew we had face paint in different colors. I just needed the green one.

I put all these things in a bag to take to school the next day.

The next day, I debated whether or not to ask my mom if I could take the broom.

What if she said, no?

I decided not to ask.

When the coast was clear, I quickly went into the kitchen, grabbed the broom and walked out the front door to wait for the school bus that picked us up right in front of our house.

Later that day at the school, right before the contest was supposed to start, I went to the girls’ restroom to change.

I threw on my mom’s flowy black skirt with the black matching blouse over the clothes I was wearing, then I tied the black fabric belt around my waist.

Of course, mom’s clothes were too big for me, but the belt would help keep everything in place and I was certain that witches loved frumpy.

Then I walked over to the big mirror in the restroom and started smearing green face paint all over my face.

A girl at the sink was watching me do this, and I casually told her that I was going to make a great witch because not only did I have a big nose, but I had a mole on my face too.

She nodded, yes in agreement.

I grabbed my brush and teased my hair as much as I could.

Plopped my witch’s hat on my head, grabbed my broom, and met up with the rest of my class.

All the classes gathered together out on the playground to be judged.

Two ladies several feet from me kept staring at me and saying things to each other.

After parading around in front of the judges, we trampled back to our classes.

Not long after this, two ladies came into our classroom.

One of them was holding an orange plastic pumpkin.

One of them sweetly said, ” We are looking for the little witch. “

That little witch turned out to be me!

The one carrying the orange plastic pumpkin made her way towards me.

I was delirious with pride at having won, and foaming at the mouth, already tasting the candy.

She placed the orange plastic pumpkin on my desk in front of me.

My heart sank.

It was filled to the brim with popcorn!

I was so disappointed.

Several years later, my mom showed me a newspaper clipping about my winning this contest.

I was stunned.

I don’t remember my parents ever sharing this with me around the time of the contest.

Or had they, but it wasn’t worth remembering to me?

To this day though, I remember how I felt as I peered into the orange plastic pumpkin and instead of seeing colorful wrapped candy, I saw popcorn instead.

Boring, white popcorn.

Did they even bother to butter it?

ToBeContinued…

~missy salcido wead