Namesake

I seem to have been a pretty awesome small child. Sure, my Mom always tells me I was born with a smile on my face. But I think I'm most intrigued by Tiny Pins, which was the name I bequeathed my first doll. She was a sock doll with blue eyes sewn with embroidery floss, along will all of her other, plainer facial features. She wore a marmish short yellow yarn hair-do that was mostly covered with a hat that was tacked to her head permanently (undoubtedly to conceal bald spots). Tiny Pins was not an exceptional doll, but in my opinion she had a damn interesting name. What was on my mind when I picked that one, I wonder?

Rather than have an imaginary friend, I had an alter-ego, Chrissy Tina. To transition from myself into her, I put on a hat, usually a large, straw sun hat with a wide brim. I looked up to Chrissy TIna and thought she was very mature. There are a small number of photos of her at my parent's house, and in each one she is smirking like a cat with a canary feather peaking out of her mouth. I swore that the two of us shared conversations, like most kids who have imaginary friends. I wonder what psycho-analysts would say about my experience? As long as they don't tell me it means I'm a sociopath, or almost worse, average, I think I'll be ok.



This is me during the time that Chrissy Tina and Tiny Pins were my aces. While we bear a striking resemblance, I can tell this is not Chrissy Tina (obviously, there's no hat to be seen).



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