Fat’s Chronicles: Who’s dat Ugly Girl?

Now, its not talken bout folks if they talken bout themself. You just, agreeing with them, right? That being said, Lula told me this story and if you laugh or agree, I ain’t the one who said it, it was her.

Lula was the youngest of three children. The oldest was her brother lil John who looked just like his daddy, almost like a bulldog. He had a tight, scrunched up face, extra skin creating a double chin. He wasn’t big or nothen but the skin on his face was just a bit saggy. Anyway, John was a kind man and very hard working. I guess that’s how he got married to Mrs. Jenkins, he was so kind and considerate he was able to woo her into marrien him. Now Mrs. Jenkins was beautiful. Some would say the most beautiful woman in town. Mrs. Jenkins had long beautiful hair that she wore in a very fashionable updo. She was slim and had chocolate skin as smooth as silk. Kathy, the middle daughter, looked just like her momma, just as pretty, just as slim.

Not only was Mrs. Jenkins beautiful, chiiile she could dress. She made all her own clothes and clothes for her family. The only thing she really had to purchase were her hats. She wore beautiful hats and kept them on the top of her armoire away from the chilren’s sticky fingers. She also kept some change in her hat boxes caz she knew nobody could get to em.

Now Lula knew her mamma kept change in those hat boxes and when it come time for us to run to the Marcel’s Market, Lula would run in the house, grab a chair, climb to the top of the Armoire and reach her hand in to grab some pennies. One day, she decided she wanted to see how much change was in the hat box. So, she grabbed the chair, opened the armoire, and climbed up to the top putting her foot on the top shelf of the armoire to push herself up. She reached the top and saw it was plenni of pennies in the box. upon further inspection she looked and said, “Who’s dat ugly girl outside the window?” Lula had never seen her before, and she grew startled. “Who are you? Why you copying after me? Go home you old ugly girl, Humf, playing at my window.”

Lula ran outside and met Me and Mable at Marcel’s Market. “Why you take so long Lula?” I asked caz she had the money so we all had to wait on her, and Mrs. Marcel was getten suspicious of us. “I had to get this ugly girl out my face!”, “Lulu, what you talken bout”, “No really Fat, dis ugly girl came pass my window and kept copying me and doing everything I was doing!” “Well what you say?” Mable asked genuinely. “I said, Get yo ugly self out my window! Then I walked away and she did too.” Me and Mable ain’t think nothen of it. We just went on bout our bussiness and let Lula pay for the food.

The next day Lula came running outside in tears, She was 3 years younger than us so we always saw her as a big baby anyway. “Lula girl, why you cryen now?” “You wont believe it Fat!” “Well, what is it Lula?” “I was in da house diggin in the hat box and wanted to see if dat ugly girl was gone come back and mess with me..” “Well, did she?” “Oh she came alright and so did my momma.” “Oh no! You got caught?! Now how we gone get snac-” “Fat, let me finish. So in walks my mamma and she said, “What you doing up there?” and caz I’m smart, I said, I’m looking fo this ugly girl who keep mocking me out the window. My momma said, “Chile ain’t no window up there.” I told her yes ma’am it is. I showed her and she just went to laughen.” “Why she do that?” Mable interjected. “Wellllll, she said, “Baby, thats a mirror in my hat box and that little ugly girl you see is you.” No way mama I look like you and John John looks like daddy. That ain’t me! “Yes baby it is. That is a mirror. We can’t afford to have them round the house like other people so I just use the one in my hat box. And anyway, that little girl peeking through the mirror is not ugly, that’s my baby and she beautiful.” “Ha! Now Lula I know yo mama love you but she said you was beautiful?” Me and Mable bursted into laughter. “Why you laughing?” “Caz, you more like butti-ful” We laughed and laughed and like the baby Lula was, she ran home crying to her mama, but she the one said it, not me.

#Social Justice #Black life #History #nonfiction #storytelling