Mrs. Brown

I was reminded this morning of a woman I knew as a child. I was a mere 9 years old and in the Girl Scouts, or maybe it was Brownies. It’s been quite a number of years so my memory is a bit foggy.

Mrs. Brown worked at the elementary school as a yard duty lady. She also volunteered to transport us girls when the Girl Scouts (or Brownies) went on field trips. She was a very nice woman and she was easy to talk to. She loved all of the kids and didn’t play favorites. She was very pretty, at least in my 9 year old mind. Maybe she wasn’t so pretty. The memory thing, you know. But there’s one thing I do remember quite clearly and that was Mrs. Brown’s daughter.

I don’t recall the girl’s name but she was a year behind me. Please know that I feel absolutely awful thinking this but that girl was hideous! She was the ugliest kid I had ever seen! She was skinny with crooked legs and crooked teeth. One of her eyes was a bit cock-eyed which I learned years later was commonly referred to as lazy eye. Her long brown hair looked as though she never brushed it, complete with what we called a ‘rat’s nest’. She was so ugly even a 9 year old girl like me recognized it.

Now don’t go being all bitchy at me for this because a) I was just a little girl and b) I was nice to her. I tried to hang with her on the playground because she didn’t have any friends. She seemed to be very sad all the time so I did things and said things to make her laugh. One day, I snuck a comb and hair pick out of the house (because they were my mother’s) and brought them to school so I could comb the ugly little girl’s hair. I shudder to think that we could have gotten lice but I had no idea at the time!

At recess, I brought out the comb and pick and started grooming myself and the ugly little girl said, “Hey, that’s neat. Is it a comb?” She was referring to the hair pick and I told her what it was called. I asked her if she wanted me to do her hair and that we could play hairdresser! She was thrilled. So, I combed her hair…little by little, first with the pick and then with the comb and then with the pick and so on and so on. This took 2 recesses but her hair was combed and I actually had the forethought to grab a rubber band out of my desk before the second recess so I could braid the ugly little girl’s hair. She was so proud of her braided hair and I told her she was pretty; I think she felt pretty, too.

I snuck the comb and pick back into the house when I got home from school that day and put them in a weird place so my mom would find them and wonder how they got there. I found out my mom went nuts looking for that hair pick because that’s what she used on her permed hair! I laughed to myself because I visualized my mom frantically looking for that damn pick and most likely all day long! I could tell when she found the comb and pick because I could hear her laugh from across the house. I pretended to not have a care in the world and ran outside to play!

Anyway, this morning I heard this song on the radio as I skipped through the channels and I couldn’t help but think of Mrs. Brown and her ugly little daughter. Of course, the words I heard in my head as the song played were, “Mrs. Brown, you’ve got an ugly daughter!” Enjoy the song!

5 thoughts on “Mrs. Brown

  1. Ha! I hadn’t heard this song in forever! I think all of us had a classmate or two that fell into that category (poor things). But I also tried to talk and make them feel included because I found myself at the bullying end of the “pretty girls” because I wasn’t as pretty as them. But, they can all suck it now because the ones I’ve run into recently are fat, ugly and two of them are working as waitresses and convenience store clerks. Yes, I don’t have a job right now but, I know that those former pretty girls are pretty darn ugly now! 😝🤣😂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Great song. Poor kid though. There were quite a few of us who fumbled through those awkward ages better than others. I too was usually on the receiving end of teasing and bullying. Good for you for befriending her!

    Liked by 1 person

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