Damaged Goods

Didactic therapy is not for the faint of heart.
It was a teary one today. In fact, it was a teary weekend as well. My high school English teacher said all creation involves pain, and while I'm not sure about theological correctness of that statement, I know it's certainly true in my life. It's painful to try and grow into a healthier, less neurotic person. A person who can call the phone company all by herself, without fear of rejection. You may laugh, but from where I'm sitting, that'll be the day.
Today, we talked about one particular memory of my mother. I could not have been older than six. I am standing in front of the mirror in the horrid, 80s beige bathroom. My mother is brushing my hair, roughly; she never liked doing my hair. I think she was brushing it back into a ponytail when she spoke. I remember, even then, that her words seemed to come totally out of the blue to me. It did not follow from what she had just said, nor did it flow with what came after. "Sweetie, do your ears bother you? Because, you know, they stick out, but when you're older, a doctor can do an operation to make them look right. It's not a big thing, just a little snip."
I don't wear my hair in ponytails now, unless I absolutely have to.
You know, that operation may not be a big thing. It probably only requires local anesthesia. But, my gosh, having defective ears has been a big thing, requiring a lot more than local anesthesia. It's required self-starvation, panic attacks, and binge eating, among other things. But that still doesn't really numb the pain. Now, when I check the mirror, I have to check how visible my ears are. Pictures of myself are rated on a.) how not-fat I look, and b.) how my ears are doing. I hated getting my hair put up for dances, and so most of the pictures I have from formal occasions are inadmissible for framing because my ears are in the way.
Mama, why can you not accept my ears? Why do you still bring up the subject of plastic surgery every time I come home for a visit? Is it because they're just too grotesque to remain in your presence? Is it because I get my horrid ears from Daddy's side, and your so bitter towards him about everything else that this just adds fuel to the fire?
Is it because I will never, ever be good enough for you, and my ears are just a symbol of that fact?