The God Theory

On a day like today I bless the world's oldest ancestors. Because they came up with the world's biggest excuse to take time out for merry-making, and holidaying. And they didn't have Internet back then. And although Carnival does nothing for me, it provides me with a very well-deserved break. I think it's lovely for little people to be able to dress in fancy costumes, wear makeup and masks. But for adults? And then again why not? If masking people's faces is what takes their fancy, I can do without setting my sight on some ugly people. My face... oh no, it needs no mask, it's the one perfect thing I've inherited and I'm not about to cover it up. My twin and I have a theory about the timeline God used when making us. We are sure that God started constructing his feet, legs, waist, abs, and neck. Then God proceeded to leave my twin to dry and started on my face which he painstakingly constructed with precise chiseling. Such was God precise at doing my face that it exhausted him. So God took a nap. And the bloody inexperienced angels took over, giving my brother a less than perfect face, and using all the wrong tools to make the rest of my body. Perhaps it was a lesson as in, you really cannot have everything in the world. One rude, rich and old woman, who had lipstick-stained teeth once decided to give her uninvited opinion. She took one look at us and said , " Oh, so it's true with twins, one gets the body (and she looked at Joseph) and the other gets the face (and stared into my eyes)". Well in her case it seemed as if she got neither but such was our surprise we didn't have the energy to talk. The most damning thing is that it's not so very long ago when I too had the perfect body. But what is the perfect body? What would be the opinion of a limbless person I wonder? And so we have to make do and be thankful because it could have gone a hell of a lot worse. I learnt a harsh quick lesson at the Razzett tal-Hbiberija swimming pool. There was I desperately trying to cover up my legs because I didn't want anybody to see the orange peel effect. So I stayed sitting down waiting for people to go. And in sitting down this young woman was seated not very far off from me. And she too was waiting, for someone to help. I could have helped, but I didn't want her to see my cellulite. And she seemed nice enough so I told her so. Her answer made me feel so small. The conversation was like this, "Hi, sorry I can't help but I'm waiting for people to go because I'm shy about my legs. Because people will stare and stuff". That was me. And this was her, "Oh I see, I'm waiting for someone to help because I've got no legs. And because people will stare and stuff. "Such was I concerned about the stupid orange-peel effect, I hadn't even recognised this girl's needs, partly because I was obsessed about myself, and partly because she was cleverly draped in a big white towel which hid the things which weren't there anyway. I always thought hiding meant concealing things which are present, such as my cellulite. Here was a girl who was hiding nothing and everything. In just 5 seconds I had learnt a big lesson in life. I bet she would have wanted to trade places with me and my orange peel. I still remember that girl from time to time. She made me feel so small and angry at myself, which was not her intention. Where was God when He made her? Did he trade a nap for a coma? And which angel was it who decided to play such a sorry trick? I'll never know. But I know now to shut up, face the stares and get on with it. Because it could have been worse.