I realised yesterday that I have a growth on my forehead. It was fun for a while. I had a lot of fun watching people stare at it as I spoke. It was nice to be noticed for once. But soon I started to feel different, as I realised this is an experience shared only between the incredibly attractive and the incredibly disfigured.
I arrived at work this morning only to find a colleague staring at my forehead. He asked if I was feeling okay, without breaking his gaze at my lump, and I wondered if he were talking to me or the growth on my forehead. I gave him the opportunity to self-realise his inappropriateness, but it never came, and so I reminded him that my eyes were in fact, down here.
As the morning wore on, I felt more and more objectified.
I thought I’d get a coffee to calm my nerves. This led me past a construction site, and the men working there yelled in a chorus of perverted disharmony; “Hey sexy!” “I like your curves!”, and “hey baby, was your dad a kettle, because you have a boil on your face!” I tried to hide my tears as best I could, and cried into a flat white.
I’m seeing a doctor this afternoon to see if I can get a reduction. People tell me I’m crazy, that I could go places, like the freak show. But to be honest, I just don’t want to feel like an abnormal growth on the forehead of society anymore. I want to be me. I want to be Dan again.