I make fun of people I don’t know…all the time. They are unsuspecting victims. Saturday I saw “Carrot Top’s Cousin.” And today, “Princess Lea beamed into Starbucks.” I read Trent, Perez, and Pop Sugar. I make mad fun of Mel Gibson, Nicole Ricci, Lindsey Lohan, Paris and a slew of others. They are my walking comedy show. I’m not a crier, but if it was me being made fun of, I’d have my assistant buy tissues by the bulk.

I’m currently watching a show about medical mysteries (I should be studying) and a wolf man. A real live Teen Wolf, but older and who doesn’t play basketball. When children around him are asked about his appearance they notice but simply reply, “He’s funny. I like it when he tells us jokes.” They see the beauty in him and don’t give him the funny looks adults give him at the grocery store, no doubt.

The following story was about a five year old who is allergic to the sun. Her day begins when the sun goes down. Her parents treat her as though she is Mary Jane. Ideally, she’ll never know she’s not Mary Jane or Mary Anne until her age reaches double digits. Cause, lets face it, you blink and your childhood is over yet, it shapes your life. I wiped a tear after watching her innocence and the way her Mother folded into herself, “You never want to watch your child go through this.”

You never want to watch your family or friends go through any of that.

Medical mysteries and miracles are difficult to walk a child through. You have to maintain as though you have the upper hand although, you’ve been powerless against the disease since the moment she smiled at you from the nest of your arm. You tell yourself you’re going to keep your cool. If you fall apart at the seams, allow your family and friends to bear witness, they worry more.

It owns the body. Never the mind.

But fashion? Duuuuuuuuudee.