What an ugly son of a …

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It was frightening. It happened about 30 years ago. I was walking along Queen Street in Toronto when I saw him. He kept staring at me. I tried to look away but everytime I looked up. He was still staring. I stopped. He stopped. What an ugly son of a … I began but then stopped. I was staring into a store window. At an angle to the street. I was staring at a reflection of myself. First time I hadn’t recognized myself. Like the first time you hear your voice on a tape recorder. Do I really laugh like a girl? My vision. It happened again. Recently. In pictures my daughters took of a birthday party we had at the house. They put them on chapbook. I could not believe that I looked that old. It was like a special effects film. (Effects or affects?) Maybe thats what old age is. Special make-up effects. Without the oscar.