Ever since she was born, she would look in the mirror and see that pink hat. Dark locks, shrouded by a rosy piece of cloth, cupping her face like a coating around a jawbreaker. Ever since she was born, her mom and dad had only ever seen her naked scalp but once, and every day after covered by black curls and pink rabbit ears. Ever since she was born, her older brother and sister can only recall ever seeing her head bare when her precious headwear was torn from her unwillingly, and even then, never seeing her head in it's natural state.
She is never seen without her pink bunny ears.
She looks at her own face in the mirror, the hat seen as a part of her, not as an accessory, nor clothing item; it is a part of her, attached to her head as if she was born with it just as naturally as her own hair.
Every day, she grows older, one day older than the last. She looks at her reflection, looking at her beloved pink bunny ears, the ones that never left her head or heart for even a moment, the ones she is sure she will be buried with, words of outsiders echoing in her head about how she will "grow up and be ashamed of her childish hat." Every word is like a knife to the heart. Hands curl around the ear flaps, pulling them down, swaddling herself in it's embrace.
She will never part with this hat. She refuses to part with this hat. As long as she exists, she will don this hat.
If she loves herself, she will ignore them all. She cannot imagine herself, nor her life, without her hat.
This hat remembers everything so precious to her, everything so dear, so near, so precious to her heart.
To give this up now would be nothing short of a sin.
She is unique, she believes. She is herself.
She is Louise; Louise, who wears the ears.