While I was digging around for the photo in the previous post, I came across this one that hadn’t been uploaded and was reminded of the dimple story, which I told recently.

It all started because Nadja complimented me on my dimple, and I told her it was fake. Fake as in artificial, as in I wasn’t born with it; however, I didn’t create it, either!

I’m not sure how old I was, maybe around 10, possibly younger. We were still living in Winnipeg, and we were often at our cousins’ house or across the street at another house of distant relatives. We looked forward to those visits — there were always lots of kids to play with.

Growing up with two brothers, I was used to playing rough. In those days the theatrics of the WWF* was relatively tame, and we’d try and mimic some of the moves. I recall being punched in the stomach and having the wind knocked out of me to the point where I didn’t want to play WWF anymore. It was about that time when we were goofing around in the kitchen of the distant relatives, and Allan wanted to show off to the rest of the cousins. He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me so hard my face slammed into a heavy wooden kitchen chair.

I remember it hurt like the dickens, even after icing and many horrified apologies. The bruising and bleeding healed over quickly, but the tissue stuck permanently to the bone, creating a dimple of sorts that remains to this day. I would’ve thought the lack of symmetry and a higher-than-average position on my face would twig people to ask if it were “real”, but no one has.

And although it makes my brother look like a meanie, it also makes for a good story, especially to my five nieces and nephews!

* When we were really young, my father even took the three of us to see the WWF live! My mother went ballistic. Thinking back, I don’t know how he got away with it.