What the World Sees

Through the course of my life, I look back and with the clarity of hindsight and find those moments that formed my foundation. Lessons with impact that linger in my memory and shape my days.

Today, when I navigated over to my once a week Theme Thursday site, I saw that the word this week is: Face.

Well, this left me stumped. I tucked the word into one of the creases in my brain and thought about it for a while. This is when some of the best ideas hit me, when I’ve planted a seed then forget about it. Something worthwhile often blooms.

What happened is that I had a memory. Just a flash, but enough to remind me.

I was eight, maybe? Perhaps actually younger. I was wearing a black leotard and pink tights. I had ballet class to attend in an hour or two, and so I was ready to go.

While waiting, I was doing what kids do…fiddling around with stuff. I’d somehow acquired a rubber band and that had captured my interest. *sproing, sproing*

I played it like a guitar, stretching and loosening it to get better notes.

I used it like a slingshot to send balls of paper zipping through the sky.

I wrapped it around my thumb, took it off, wrapped it around again.

Then, for some reason I can’t quite explain, I wrapped the rubber band around the end of my nose. Unwrapped it. Wrapped it again, tighter this time. It didn’t hurt and felt sort of weird so I went and looked in the mirror. Laughed, then left it on my nose and walked around.

After a while, I heard my mom calling, it was time to get in the car. I took the rubber band off my nose, left it on my desk, got my stuff and headed out to the car and climbed in.

My mom, with an eagle eye for such things, asked “what happened to your nose?”

I was like, “what?” and touched my nose. All seemed well.

Mom made me look in the visor mirror. Seems that rubber band had left a bruise on the end of my nose. A dark blue bruise in a perfect circle.


So needless to say, the gig was up. I had to explain what I’d done. (confession is good for the soul….or so the parish priest used to tell me.)

My mom gave me one of those looks a parent gives a child when they confess to something like wrapping a rubber band around their nose. Then she gave me a stern lecture. She wasn’t mad. But she had something very firm to impress upon me.

I don’t remember the exact text of what she said, but the gist was….don’t mess with your face. If you are going to monkey around like that with a rubber band, use your elbow or your toe , but not your face. Your face is the first thing people see when they meet you. That’s where people form their first impression. And do you really want the first impression to be a big dark blotch on the end of your nose?

She also warned me that the girls at dance class would likely tease me. I thought “no way, they won’t care.” Well, they cared. They cared a lot. Those snotty girls made comments. And pointed and laughed. And made fun of me mercilessly.

They made fun of me a lot anyway because they were all thin and lithe and had visions of ballet careers in their minds. I was the opposite of thin and lithe and had visions of grilled cheese sandwiches in my mind.

You picking up what I’m putting down?

So I thought about what my mom had said. I initially resisted what she said when the “talking to” came down, but later on, I knew she was right.


The advice stuck with me, and I’ve stuck with it.

So don’t monkey around with your face. For me, that extends to lip tucks and eye brow lifts and injections of all kinds. My face is my calling card, and as it ages, it tells my story.

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  • becca givens

    “My face is my calling card, and as it ages, it tells my story.”
    Awesome conclusion full of divine truth ~~

  • Paula

    Your mom hit it on the nose, so to speak. ;) Don’t mess with the face!

    Thanks for sharing your story! A fun read!

  • Meryl

    I am beginning to embrace my age and face. I feel I’ve earned each and every gray hair and wrinkle. Funny, I find the gray hair easier to accept than the smile wrinkles around my mouth, but no tucks or surgery for me either.

    • Karen Fayeth

      Meryl – I’m starting to embrace my wrinkles a bit more. My gray hair? No, can’t embrace it. I knock it down with color and pretend it’s not there! Only my hairdresser knows for sure….lol!!

  • chrisd

    This brought a sort of bittersweet smile. I suspected that the girls would not be accepting. It’s too bad that kids aren’t, sometimes.

    You give really good insight about the face. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. Thanks for sharing!

  • Ur Bro

    My story seems to be bumpy, wrinkely with crows feet.

    • Karen Fayeth


      Tis not not to wise to hack on my brother. It will only come back on me thricefold.

  • Scott Claus

    I’m reminded of the movie “Carrie.” Piper Laurie warns, “They’re all gonna laugh at you!”

    And they did. But then, if you’ve seen the movie you know how it ends:

    Soon, they weren’t laughing any more.


  • Natalie

    I am a Monday’s child. Are you? I think that Sabbath day thing could work, too, what with all that good ‘n gay stuff.

    Monday’s child is fair of face,
    Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
    Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
    Thursday’s child has far to go,
    Friday’s child is loving and giving,
    Saturday’s child must work for a living,
    But the child that’s born on the Sabbath day,
    Is fair and wise and good and gay.

  • trisha

    its a great truth you learned very early.

    you are right, we certainly should be cautious about both our faces the moral and physical.


  • Cynthia

    So much truth in here. I loved the image of you as a child with your confidence that others wouldn’t care about a bruise on your nose, you didn’t so why should they? A delightful read :)

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