Mountains Out of Mole Hills

Knots inhabit my stomach. My hands shake, and I’m about to have a grand mal seizure because of a big fat red pimple burning like fire in the middle of my forehead.

“I have a third eye, mom.”

“The better to see with, Mindy, my dear.” Dad thinks humor is the best remedy for my anxiety.

“Frank, enough!” Mom scolds dad and gives him the evil eye. “Honey, it doesn’t even show. Stop obsessing about it. You look beautiful.”

“I can’t do this. I look ridiculous,” I wail for about the hundredth time since I awoke this morning.

“If you keep crying about it, your eyes are going to be as red as that bulls-eye on your forehead.”

I’m horrified. “Ohmygod…I can’t do this.”

“Frank! I swear…” Mom pushes him out of the room.

“Mom, Dad’s right. I’m a freak show. I hate my life.”

Mom sighs like she always does when she can’t fix things. “Life is a crap shoot, but in the end you choose the moments that matter the most to you.”

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Even with ten layers of concealer and a straight fringe of bangs across my forehead, I still suffer the red-hot zit pulsing SOS signals to anyone within a five mile radius.

Mother fusses with my hair and arranges the veil over my face. “You're beautiful inside and outside.”

“What about later?” I take a deep breath.

“Everyone always looks divine in candlelight. Trick of the eye.” She smiles.

Dad knocks at the door. “It’s time, Mindy. Stop making mountains out of mole hills."

I take his arm and face the music.

Jake is standing, at the altar, with that big goofy grin I love so much. I can’t wait to shower my groom with kisses.


Word Count: 300