I know what’s coming next…

There’s questions… There’s always questions. So I have a choice. Three, actually (let me know if there are more)

1) I can answer the same old questions each time anybody and everybody asks, once they’ve twigged about me (or once I’ve just come straight out and told them – there are some people out there  who really aren’t that bright);

2) I can wait till someone asks those same old questions, at which point I whip my coat open to reveal a billboard carefully inscribed with all the answers. That way, I don’t have to go over it all again for the umpty-umpth time. However, it only takes one person to get the wrong idea about my intentions and I end up in a police cell charged with goodness knows what…

or

3) Er…. This.  Just keep reading…

So, was I born like this or was I turned? That’s what you wanted to ask, wasn’t it?  I mean, I’m obviously real, so…

I was born this way, obviously. Like the song says. It’s like anything else genetic, two people can be carriers of the certain gene or syndrome, but it’s only when they have a child that it comes to light. None of my older brothers and sisters are like this. I guess if I’d been the first one to pop out, I could well have been an only child!  So no, I don’t sparkle in the sunlight. I don’t turn into a bat and fly (although that would be handy when the trains are playing silly beggars). I don’t have excessively long fingers with talon like nails. In fact, I have pudgy hands with rather stubby fingers. Plus, I bite my nails. Well, I have to do something with my teeth don’t I?!

Ah, teeth. No, I do not have fangs, thank you very much. I had them fixed as a teenager. There are some school photos of me (pre-fix) that still make me cringe when I think about them. Come to think of it, I rarely smiled in photos at all when I was a child. And on those rare occasions when I did smile, I never, ever showed my teeth. Fangs for the memory. Ha… Ha… Ha…

In fact, I only have one photo of me wearing anything like a smile. I was four, riding my scooter in the park. My father said I stopped smiling when I started school. Apparently that’s when I started to bite my nails too… Anyway, teeth… They weren’t all completely fixed and there is still a slight hint of fanginess about my teeth on a bad day. Especially the lower ones. Dental technology has moved on…

As I said, I don’t sparkle in sunlight. I never have. I never will. Unless of course, I’m wearing full body glitter. Although, as I am allergic to most things (more about that at a later date), that would probably be a very bad idea. I might even burst into flames! No, just joking. I don’t burst into flames either. Well, unless you count that unfortunate incident trying to make home fireworks but then that could have happened to anybody. There was just a bunch of us daft teenagers mucking about one evening at a youth activity and… never mind.

But….. Before you stop reading in a total blast of disappointment: I don’t like sunlight. There. I’ve redeemed myself. Bright sunlight… hate hate hate. How do I handle it? Do I hiss and cover myself dramatically with my hands while I start to sizzle slightly like an over-dramatic Pop Tart? Hardly.

Well, either I don’t go out at all (but that would restrict my activities quite a bit)… Or I just cover up. That in itself does make me stand out a little bit: especially when you’re walking around in August, dressed extremely modestly, and everybody else is tottering around wearing a wide belt and two bits of string. I will be so grateful when it’s fashionable to wear clothes again…

Do I wear sunglasses to protect my delicate little eyes? I do! Well, not sunglasses as such. I’m not a complete poser. I will leave that kind of behaviour for the Wannabees. Or the genuine posers. I mean, who wears sunglasses on the London Underground in December for goodness sake?! But I do wear glasses that react to sunlight. Unfortunately, they don’t always react quick enough for my liking. But that’s another story.

 

---

Follow me on Twitter @EverydayVampire