Memoir

Nia Williams

Instructor Koester

English 1010

September 10, 2013

Memoir

              “C’mon, Nia! You’ve got to smile for the camera! Your dress looks absolutely lovely and you shouldn’t be upset about it. There’s no need for you to be scared; Chelsea is right here.” A few minutes went by and I still wasn’t smiling; I was still on the stool sniffling and angry. “If you don’t straighten up, it’s possible that you’ll be sitting on the wall at recess for your behavior. There are other kids that have to take pictures, too, so you need to get it together or you can sit here in the corner until you’re ready.” The cameraman was pointing at the corner and looked at me with a serious look on his face and I didn’t like it one bit. I was already wallowing in my anger about my outfit and I didn’t appreciate that he was talking to me like this. I was a spoiled 5-year old who simply wanted to display how she was feeling to everyone! I didn’t care that there were other people behind me, I didn’t care that I could possibly miss out on recess with my best friend, Kristen. I didn’t even care that she would be upset with me that I got in trouble. I just wanted to continue drowning in my feelings about the fact that my mother put me in this ugly blue dress on the exact day that I was expected to take a picture.

            That morning, I was extremely excited. It was picture day at Counterpane. I was most excited to see what I was going to be wearing that day though. My mommy dressed me everyday and I didn’t know what she had planned for me that morning, but I knew it was going to be something cute, something with pretty colors, and something fashionable. At this time in my life, I might not have even known how to spell ‘fashion’, but I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like and for a 5-year old that’s making fashion statements. 

           I did my usual routine of hopping out of my wooden, twin-sized bed with my Winnie the Pooh sheets and skipping merrily to the bathroom to use the restroom. I always took a while doing this because I had to sing while I was on the toilet, this was just part of my happy child nature. By the time I finished singing, Jesus Loves Me about 2-3 times I would be ready to go speak to my parents. The smell of crackling, sizzling bologna was wafting throughout the whole house and it was the greatest alarm clock to me. As I walked straight from the bathroom and around the corner to the kitchen I walked in to see my daddy standing at the stove creating the delicious smell. He told me ‘Good Morning’ and then seated me in my chair for breakfast. A delicious meal of eggs and grits filled my little stomach within minutes and I was ready to see my mommy so that I could get dressed for picture day.

           When I walked in their room to see her she greeted me with a gorgeous smile, a big hug and a kiss. I told her that I was ready to get dressed for school and she got up and led me to her closet. When she opened the door, it was then that she revealed the monstrosity of what she and the designer called a “cute dress”. It was instantly then that my day was ruined. Everything inside of me just wanted to yell at her and run all over the house in every room, every closet, and in every window yelling to the mountaintops, yelling to God Himself how much I hated this dress and how ugly it was and how I would NOT be putting it on for my picture. I came to myself from my thoughts and I looked up at my mommy with a look of such disdain that I thought she could’ve been scared that some demon had attacked my body and I was the next omen child.

        “What’s wrong, Nia?” she asked me.

        “I don’t want to wear that dress. It’s ugly. I want to wear something else.” I told her in a monotone voice. I don’t think she fully understood how upset I was at this moment, because I was hot, I’ll even say that I was a little hurt that she was going to make me wear this. Her own child. I thought she loved me more than this.

          “Well, you’re not wearing anything else because I already ironed this dress. So c’mon so you can get dressed for school.” she scoffed at me and then walked towards the bathroom, expecting for me to follow. At that very moment, I looked down at the blue green carpet in their room and began crying my eyes out. I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t happy, I was upset, and it seemed like she didn’t even care.

             The rest of my morning began to go on like usual. My daddy drove me to school, and I sat in the back holding my purple and green lunchbox feeling the fresh warmness from my bologna sandwich, but I wasn’t as perky as I usually was. I looked outside at all the trees we were passing, I could still only think about the fact that I had on this ugly light blue dress that stopped at my knees. I wanted to rip off the frilly collar that had all the ugly yellow flowers on it. I literally would’ve been more satisfied taking a picture in my underwear, panties, frilly socks and black Mary-Jane’s rather than this ugly looking dress! Eventually, we pulled up to my school and one of the older kids were there to greet me and escort me to class. My daddy kissed me, told me he loved me and I got out of the car. Some of the older girls told me my dress was really cute and in that moment, if it was a relevant term then, I would’ve stuck my little hand in their face and told them to swerve and I would’ve walked myself to class. But since that didn’t actually happen, I was escorted to my class and I walked in and saw all the other boys and girls in their nice picture outfits and I looked down at mine: a hot, ugly mess!

My day continued to drag on: complete the pink tower here, do some preposition work there, have snack with Kristen, play mom to the classroom and wash everyone’s dishes and then came picture time. 

             My anger was still building up inside of me and a new feeling began to emerge with this anger. I was becoming scared. I was scared to take my picture; not only for the fact that I had on this ugly dress, but just scared because I was 5-years old and I just got randomly scared to go take this picture by myself. I was all alone. When it was my turn, I began to cry, and I’m not just talking about a tear here, a tear there kind of cry. I’m talking about my voice was raising into a scream, heavy breathing, slight choking on my spit, coughing because I was choking, snot oozing out of my nose, falling down on the ground crying! It was a disgusting display, and yet, I couldn’t stop it. The only thing that would calm me down was if Chelsea Ward, Kristen’s older sister, came with me to take the picture.

         As Chelsea and I walked out hand-in-hand from my bright classroom into the dark halls towards the front on the school to the cameraman, my crying situation seemed to have calmed down into a pout and looks of pure, obvious anger. I walked in, still holding Chelsea’s hand tight and stopping at the doorway and gazing at the room. I saw the dark gray backdrop and the cameraman summoning for me to come and sit on the stool. Chelsea nudged me forward and I let him help me up on the stool. He got me settled, got behind his camera and then told me to smile. But I wouldn’t. I didn’t care that he said I would get in trouble, I didn’t care that he said I shouldn’t be upset, and apparently neither did he, for within a matter of seconds I heard the shutter of the camera and him telling me that I could go back to my classroom. And with that, I hopped off the stool still mad, still chewing my fingernail,  and I slipped my hand back into Chelsea’s and she walked me back down the dark halls to my bright classroom for me to finish off the rest of my day.