Clownage Issues

I not only fear clowns....I also hate them with a passion. I know that there must be some really good people out there that dress as clowns and visit hospitals and the like but I still have no use for them. When I was little bitty (around 3-4 years old) I lived in Slaton Texas. As was the custom then, everyone went to the Piggly Wiggly to buy their groceries on Wednesdays due to it being double stamp day. I do not know if this was a universal phenomena or a southern thing. Alas, Piggly Wiggly is no longer in Texas that I know of. Anyway, on that day, my Mom and I had gone shopping. I was being a good little girl when, there he stood in all of his horror. There was a clown and he decided to make friends with me. He was tall and had flaming kool-aid red hair. I also remember his big clown shoes that had been gone over with shoe paint one too many times and were badly scuffed. I think I remember them so well because I was so close to the floor myself. The most horrid thing about him was on his chest.....a blinking red heart the size of my head. THUMP....THUMP.....THUMP went the heart. thump...thump...thump....Went my smaller one. I was terrified and wanted nothing at all to do with him. Why is it that we think if we try hard enough or long enough, someone is going to change their minds about something that they obviously hate or fear? That clown decided that, before I exited the Piggly Wiggly, we were going to be hard and fast friends. I had decided that, before I exited the Piggly Wiggly, he was going to have me for dinner. The race was on. I stayed close to my Mom and did not dare get away from her. We would go up one isle and there he would be at the end....Waving to me....Beckoning me to come closer. We would go down another isle and there he would be....Grinning from ear to ear and that obnoxious heart would be THUMP...THUMP....THUMPING. I do not remember how we got out of the Piggly Wiggly. I just know that I escaped without being eaten.

Since that day, I have hated clowns. I do not like to even see pictures of them because they make my skin crawl. I think it is because of the way that they are painted. They believe that they clownage allows them to cross boundaries and get closer than one would allow a normal person. They are not who they portray. Even on the season finale of Joan of Arcadia, clowns desecrated the Church. I am not a person that is fond of things that hide and that could be the real reason that I am uncomfortable with clowns. They are hidden things.

Lately, there have been just way too many clowns in my life. The older I get, the more that I realize that I deal with clowns daily. I am not necessarily talking about the people on my case load either. I am talking about people in my every day life. Clowns much scarier than those from my childhood. I have come to realize that the clowns that I have always said that I have feared are easily recognizable due to their paint and clothing. True clowns do not paint themselves. They wear invisible mask that they hid behind. We buy into what they are because they are not wearing the signs of the clown. Signs that used to be my red flags. These clowns look just like me and wear their mask well. What is even scarier to me is that I have invited these clowns in and allowed them to get close when I should have been listening to the THUMP...THUMP....THUMP. But instead, I was in awe of their beauty and their charm.